Serendipity
by Aurifex
Summary: Kenny and Cartman pose a bet to Stan and Kyle that will, although it is accidental, change their lives forever. Style and Slash. Chapter 12 up now, FINALLY!
1. Hissy Fit

Auri's Notes - This is my FIRST South Park fanfic. XD Thanks to Canadian At Heart for pointing out what Slash means, and also thank you to Fletset for pointing out that there was no dividing line.. I put astericks there at first, but I realized too late that those didn't show up on FF. XD

By the way- this chapter might be kind of screwed up. See, I decided to write it from Kyle's POV Iafter/I I'd written that chapter, so I had to go back and change everything and I might've missed some stuff.

---------------

"Fifty bucks."

"Ten."

"Forty bucks."

"Ten."

"GODDAMMIT, Cartman, we're not doing anything unless we get at least forty."

"Oh, fine, fine, you frickin' Jew, I'll give you forty… Geez, you're such a fuckin' whiner."

I grit my teeth and clenched together my fists, feeling my knuckles crack threateningly. I'd just about had it with Cartman… that smug bastard was really starting to piss me off with all of his "Jew" comments. At fifteen, I would've thought that Cartman would have grown out of it…

But then I began to wonder how the hell that unbelievable idea ever got into my head.

16 year old Stan was sitting next to me, looking slightly embarrassed. "Okay… um… so what exactly are we doing?" He asked, cocking his head.

"Okay, okay, Kenny and I," Cartman motioned to himself, and then to the boy with the orange parka sitting next to him. "Challenge you, Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh, to a bet."

Always formally an asshole.

"The rules?" I asked, crossing my arms over one another and staring at Cartman intently. If he was going to have us do this, we were going to do it my way… more or Cartman poking in loopholes and forcing us to do stuff we didn't want to. "What exactly are the terms of this bet?"

"Well," Kenny spoke up, abandoning his Coca Cola and pushing back his hood to reveal his messy blonde hair, "You and Stan will act gay. With each other. For two weeks. You are to display public affection during school hours and also when you are in public."

Stan made a strange noise in his throat that sounded like a weasel being run over by a car.

I, on the other hand, did nothing except nod. I had always secretly nursed the idea of Stan and I being together, but never told anyone or even chose to accept the thought. I wasn't gay, of course, but it was an interesting topic to think about. Stan didn't seem to happy about it, but… at least we were getting 40 bucks out of it.

"And this is only during school and in public? Not in our houses or any other time we're alone?" Stan stammered, drumming his fingers nervously on the lunchroom table and shifting back and forth in his seat nervously. "And… no sex?"

"No, no sex." Kenny said, taking a sip of his coke.

"Not unless you want to." Cartman interjected, lifting up a hand with index finger extended.

Stan leaned over and punched Cartman in the arm; the latter withdrew with an angry mutter and crossed his flabby arms. "No, we don't want to." Stan growled.

I nodded once more. "No. What about… um… tongue-hockey?" I inquired, gnawing on my lower lip and trying to imagine Stan biting the lip that I had just broken the skin of. I licked blood from the inside of my cheek, flinching slightly at the vile metallic taste.

"Again, only if you want to. You don't have to make out… but…" Kenny grinned mischievously. "Kissing on the cheek or lips is required. And hugs. And touching."

"Damn, this isn't worth the eighty bucks." I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Ay! Who said anything about eighty?" Cartman demanded, glaring at me.

"You stupid fatass, when Stan and I each get paid for this, we'll have eighty bucks in total." I explained very slowly, ticking off the words on my fingers as I went.

"Eh, okay." Cartman crossed his arms in a sulk and glared at Stan and I with beady eyes. "Well?"

"Well what?" Stan asked.

"DO YOU AGREE TO THE TERMS?"

Stan and I glanced at each other, nervously. I gave a very small, weak nod, my eyes trying to communicate a questionable affirmation. Stan bobbed his head shortly.

"Okay then!" Kenny whipped out a piece of paper from seemingly nowhere. "Either of you guys got a pen?" He asked, looking around the table at the other three of us.

"I do." Stan said, pulling a ballpoint BIC pen from his pocket and handing it to Kenny. Kenny pushed the pen back at him, shaking his head.

"Nuh uh… you guys have to sign it."

"Um… okay…but you have to write out the strict terms." I pointed out, snatching the pen from Stan and pushing it back towards Kenny.

Cartman then seized the pen and scribbled down a paragraph on the paper. He pushed the paper back at us, and put the pen on the table next to it.

In shoddy handwriting, the paragraph said…

I, (a blank space) and (a blank space), hereby swear to act like a fag for the next two weeks until the end of school. There is no sex or make out sessions involved, but kissing, hugging, touching, holding hands, etc., is required by the challengers, Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick. I understand and agree to these terms and will be awarded eighty dollars (forty to each bet participant) by Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick. I am not to tell anyone that this is for a bet, not my parents, friends, siblings, comrades, etc.

Then two semi-straight lines below the paragraph, presumable for Stan and I to sign out names.

"You sign heeyah (Cartman still hadn't lost the accent) and heeyah," Cartman pointed to the two blank spaces at the top and then to the two lines. "And date goes below."

Stan and I exchanged a wary glance and slowly signed our names in cursive. We pushed the paper to Kenny, not trusting Cartman with it. "Put it somewhere where you won't loose it." I told him, handing Stan his pen back.

Kenny flashed me a sly wink. "Don't worry, luff, I'll keep it safe."

"Don't call me that." I ordered, cringing. Cartman let out a cry of wicked happiness and grinned maliciously.

"Okay, from this moment on, I pronounce you guys are gay lovers." He pointed gleefully at Stan and I in turn, bouncing up and down on his bench excitedly. "But you don't have to start anything until Monday, don't worreh."

"Thank God." I mumbled. I glanced out of the lunchroom window. The rain was coming down steady, in near bucketfuls. It was at the end of May, and the whole outside had been flooded with rain and sleet for two days. I was beginning to wonder where the warm winds and sunshine were…

Stan did not look very happy. He glanced at me, nervously, and a weak grin spread over his face. I blushed and grinned as well, much to Cartman's delight. "I cannot wait until tomorrow." He cackled. "This is gonna be so sweet."

Kenny laughed slightly and removed the pop top of the cola can, and flicked it at me. I caught it in midair, and dropped it on the floor. "Just think about the money." I mumbled to Stan. He smirked.

"What are we gonna do with the money, you think?" He asked, cocking his head slightly and cracking a grin. "I mean… eighty bucks can get a lot of video games."

"Nah, I want to spend it on something more practical…" I mused, tapping my finger over my lips (still bleeding) and furrowing my brow.

"Um…" Stan trailed off, then brightened up. "Hey! We should buy diet pills for Cartman!"

Amid mine, Stan's, Kenny's laughter, we heard Cartman say, "Oh, very funneh you guys."

-----------------

"Hurry! Augh, what else could go wrong?" Stan was yelling over the roar of the rain, splashing through the puddles, me running along at his side. The school parking lot was nearly deserted, except for our bus….

Which we had just missed.

I skidded to a halt, drenched to the skin through his coat and panting slightly. "Jesus, dude," I griped, watching the yellow bus fade away through the tumbling rain. "I guess we're gonna have to walk." I sighed, and adjusted my backpack over my other shoulder. "Ah, well. We can head down the street a little bit and go through the woods." I pointed down the road at the small clump of forest while shooting an inquisitive look at Stan.

My companion nodded in agreement. "Let's hurry, though, this rain is killing me!" He lifted his algebra book over his head and used it as a makeshift umbrella, before beginning the trek down the slippery sidewalk. "Goddamn, this sucks." He added, reaching up to wipe rainwater from his book jacket.

"No kidding." I replied. I quickened my pace slightly, following along behind Stan with a sigh in my throat. Stan's clothes were sticking to his skin, as well as his hat. The red pompom had deflated slightly and was drooping, as far as I could tell from what was visible through the math book. I laughed slightly, realizing that I probably looked in no better condition. "Thank God for trees."

We reached the lip of the woods in due time, having been moving at a brisk trot down the wide sidewalk. Stan nodded in agreement, and ducked beneath the canopy. He relaxed his arm and stuffed his algebra book into his backpack, before adjusting the trap (which was twisted) and slowed his pace.

I sighed happily. "No rain. About time!" I glanced at Stan. Stan was taking his hat off, exposing the jet-black hair beneath. It was plastered to his head in a single, flat sheet. He rumpled it slightly, trying to dry it off. Sometimes I wondered whether or not that my friend looked better with the hat off… if I could wonder that, anyway, without suspicion of my own 'preference'.

Stan nodded in agreement. "You got that right." He laughed, wringing out his sopping wet hat. He glanced at me, and then did a double take. "What?" He furrowed his brow. "What are you staring at, dude?

Fuck.

I came back to Earth. I blinked several times, and then shook my head. "Um… nothing…" I trailed off, feeling rather confused. "I was just thinking…"

"'Bout what?" Stan asked nonchalantly, finally looking away from me and down at the pine needles below him.

"Uh… nothing." I repeated, folding his arms over one another in a feeble attempt to warm myself. "Just school," I added, glad to know how to lie.

"Oh." Said Stan. He was picking at a hole in his glove now.

I inwardly cheered. Thank God that Stan had accepted my excuse without suspicion… he was usually more suspicious. "So… um…" I scrutinized my mind to find a conversation topic. But I was then saved the trouble, as Stan let out an ear-piercing yell that made me jump and nearly fall over.

A garter snake slithered away through two pine trees and then disappeared from view.

A snake… again with the snakes. I glanced at Stan, aiming to tease him, but words failed me as a blush crept over my face. Stan had his arm coiled around my neck, his other arm clinging to my shoulder. He was trembling, his breathing hurried and croaky. 

"Geez, dude…" I said weakly. "It's just a garter snake…"

Stan seemed not to hear me. He just stared off into the space, into the spot where the garter snake had vanished. "Staaan." I prompted. He seemed reluctant to let go. "Staaaaaan." I tried again, this time waving his un-clung-to arm in front of Stan's eyes. My friend gave a start, and finally faced me.

"Snake…" He mumbled, gnawing on his lip nervously and flushing crimson as well. It was rather adorable looking, his sheepish expression and his face scarlet. "Um… scared me."

"No kidding, dude…" I said, looking with wide-eyed surprise at Stan. "When are you going to get over that?"

"Probably never." Stan said, still blushing. He glanced at me again, and his eyes traveled to his own arms, which were still wrapped around me in a sideways hug. "Oh!" He quickly let go of me, and took several paces back, his face darkening to maroon. "Jesus… sorry!" He apologized, twisting his fingers together in a very un-Stan like gesticulation of guilt.

"No, it's okay." I amended; shrugging in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. "I can understand"  
"But… that would be something I would accidentally do with my mom…" Stan spluttered, shooting a momentary look back at the path behind them. "Not with my best friend…"

"No, dude, it's fine, I don't care." I waved his hand in a haphazard way, shaking his head. "Let's keep going, okay?"

They kept walking in silence. Stan's facial color slowly returned to normal, while I continued to feel a sick, hot discomfiture that made me want to gag. It was a strange feeling, definitely, but somehow… it felt had felt… nice. 


	2. Phone Tag

Auri's Notes-

Wow, I love you guys, thanks for being supportive. -tackle hugs everybody who R&R'd-

-oogles the 15 year old Kyle in the shower- Mwahah. I had to change his haircut, I really did, since I HATE the fro… sorry, but Kyle doesn't like his fro either. XD The song that Kyle sings in the shower is the end of the song "Morning After", by (sorry, don't know who)… Stan and Kyle had to memorize that song backwards in the episode "Succubus." xD

I realize that this chapter might be a bit fast, as in moving slightly too fast into Kyle's feeling for Stan, but, Kyle doesn't WANT to think he's gay or bi... just for more twisties.

----

"Mom?" I called out, pushing my way through the door, still soaking wet and now shivering. I dumped my backpack on the table and spreading my sopping wet books onto the table to dry. "MOM?" I glanced around behind me, expecting to see my mother bustling through the door at any second. When she did not, I shrugged it off and edged into the kitchen.

While munching some leftover pasta salad, I sat down at the table with my left foot resting on the seat of the chair opposite me. I couldn't help thinking about today. Stan sure as hell didn't seem like he was looking forward to it. But then again, I'm not either. Or… am I? I shook the disturbing thought away and prodded energetically through the cold pasta, feeling rather perplexed.

The kitchen door opened, revealing the black-haired 9-year-old that was my Canadian brother Ike. "Hey, Ike," I said distantly, waving my fork at him in a hello. Ike pulled up a chair next to me and picked at my shirt sleeve.

"Damn, Kyle, you're soaking wet." He remarked, wiping his hand on his dry and probably very warm gray sweatshirt.

"Don't swear, Ike." I told him blandly, not taking any notice of the fact that I had been (and still am) a terrible toilet-tongue. "I know I'm wet. Stan and I missed the bus and we had to walk."

Ike smirked at me, "Why'd you miss the bus?" He asked, cocking his head slightly.

Because Stan and I were busy getting gypped into being gay for two weeks, that's why. "Um," I said, thinking quick. "Stan lost his inhaler, so we were looking for it in the lost and found."

My brother seemed to buy it with a short nod. "Gotcha. Kenny called, by the way, he wants to ask you something. I guess he got home before you." He stole a covetous look at my pasta salad, but I clutched the food to my soaking wet shirt defensively.

"Well, obviously," I said, pushing my chair back and standing up. "I had to walk." I put the food down onto the table. "G'head, eat it." I shoved it towards Ike, who snatched it up instantly and ran to the living room.

I trudged up the stairs, retrieved a pair of dry clothes, and went down into the bathroom to shower.

The water was very hot and soothing. I nearly fell asleep just stepping into the steaming shower. I quickly scrubbed my red hair (which, thank God, was no longer a disgusting afro, but now more of a shaggy, curly feather-cut, since I'd gotten it cut several years ago and kept it this style). "There's got to be a morning after," I sang under my breath, digging at my scalp with soap-coated hands. "We're moving closer to the shore," I ducked back underneath the shower and rinsed my hair. "I know we'll be there by tomorrow…and we'll escape the darkness, we won't be searching anymore…" I hummed the song while scouring my shoulders with body soap.

My thoughts traveled back to Stan. What would Monday be like? Would we not say a word, because it would be so hard to even look at each other? Or would we just act TOO gay and people would think that we were really partners. But that's the object, right?

I leaned backwards with my mouth open to the flow of water, disengaging the sour taste that had risen in my throat. Finished with my shower, I clambered out and fished around in the cupboard for a towel.

"IKE!" I yelled, shutting off the shower with a towel now wrapped around my waist. "WHERE'S THE BLOW DRIER?"

There was no reply. He must have no heard me. I straightened up and stared at my self in the foggy mirror. I reached out and wiped off a smear of the condensation, revealing my still slightly blurred torso's reflection. I had gained a slight build, since my parents had gotten me a driveway basketball hoop for my tenth birthday and I spend about an hour nearly every day practicing and exercising. I had muscular arms (I flexed one of them in the mirror) and the beginnings of a six-pack. I Maybe I'm not so bad looking. /I But Stan had always been more athletically inclined than me, despite his asthma, since he played just about every sport the school had to offer. At least I bested him in basketball and running.

I probed into the cupboard again and felt the cord of the blow drier. Why do I even bother with this damn thing? My hair doesn't NEED to be blow dried. I plugged it in and began to wave the hot air over my dripping hair. It looks good when it's freshly dried, that's why...

----

"Hi, Mrs. McCormick, is Kenny home?"

"Hold on,"

Silence on the other end of the line. I heard Kenny's mother shout his name from a great distance away, and his very muffled reply. I drummed my fingers on my desk and waited for him to pick up.

I was warm and dry now, with a blanket thrown over my shoulders and wearing a pair of jeans and a gray polo shirt. I was sitting in my room, doodling on a piece of loose-leaf with my right hand and using my left hand to prop my RAZR cell phone up to my ear. My ushanka, coat, and the rest of my usual daywear were tumbling away in the dryer downstairs.

"Hello?"

About damn time... From Kenny's voice, I could tell that he wasn't wearing his parka. Thank God, it was so much easier to talk to him with it off. "Hey, Kenny," I said, sketching out a person on the paper.

"Oh, hey Kyle," He replied. "Ike told you that I called, I take it?"

"Yeah." I said, now sketching another person beside the first. "What did you want?"

"I have a proposal for you." Kenny said, a strange hint of something in his voice that I couldn't place. "About the bet."

"Go on…" I said, drawing my favorite Russian ushanka hat upon the first person.

"Well," Kenny said, and his voice was very slow and cautious, as though he was trying very hard to not blurt out what he wanted to say. "I was thinking… if I gave you guys another twenty bucks each, would you…" He trailed off, and I could hear his breathing quicken.

"Yeeeaaah?" I asked grimly, frowning and then drawing my orange coat. "Keep going…"

Kenny didn't reply. "You there, dude?" I asked, turning my attention to the next person and drawing a blue hat.

"Yeah," He finally said, breathlessly. "So… um.. Would you… would you guys… now, you don't have to do this, but it'll be another twenty dollars." He added, "Would you guys make out? In front of me and Cartman, just so we have proof?"

I was silent. Kenny's turn to say, "You there?" I swallowed hard and nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see.

"Yeah." I mumbled hoarsely. "Uh… you're not going to pleasure yourself to our make out session even if we AGREED to it, are you?" Oh, Stan's gonna definitely say no.

Kenny snorted. "Come on, dude, am I really that perverted?"

"Yeah."

"Kyle, c'mon… it's twenty extra bucks. That'll give you sixty each…" He wheedled, "And you'll have…um…" He was quiet again for another couple minutes, and I knew that he was counting on his fingers. "One hundred-twenty dollars between you. You can also get an extra four bucks for any other creative little thing you can come up with…"

I sighed, my mouth tasting like cotton. "I don't know, Kenny." I said, as firmly as I could. "Call Stan and see what he thinks about it."

Kenny sighed as well. "'Kay," He said, "I'll give him a call. Talk to you Monday, Kyle." He hung up his phone, as did I. I set my RAZR back down on my desk and looked at my drawing.

Stan and I. Standing close together, smiling.

I curled my lip and crumpled the paper up. Is THAT what's on my unconscious mind? Ack! I tossed it into the garbage can, scowling, and then picked up my phone again. I dialed Stan's number.

I was greeted with Stan's voicemail. He must be either away from the phone or talking to Kenny. I left him a quick message of, "Stan, it's Kyle, gimme a call soon, bye." I flipped the phone back down and put it back onto my desk, staring thoughtfully at my wall with my brow furrowed. Kenny certainly had enticed me… all we'd have to do was bite each other's tongues for a while. And what had he meant by creative little things?

I drummed my fingers onto my desk, thinking. Stan wasn't going to like this at all. But… at least we were getting paid for it. Kenny had been able to dish out much more money since his father had went back to college and gotten a degree… now his family wasn't as poor as it had been, but… still… I wanted that money, and I was willing to suck every bit of money I could out of Fat-ass and Kenny. Of course, Kenny was my friend, but he'd put this all upon himself.

"Kyle!" Ike stuck his head into my door, making me jump.

"Jesus Christ, Ike, what?" I turned around to face him, my left hand unconsciously curling into a surprised fist. "Don't sneak up on me like that…"

"Sorry," He amended, waving it away with a shake of his hand. "Mom says that dinner is ready. She says that you can't skip out on dinner this time."

Damn. No fast food to sooth Kyle tonight. With a soft sigh, I stood up out of my chair and pushed it into my desk, before following Ike down the stairs and into the warm kitchen.

---

My phone rang just as I shut the door behind me. I quickly made a mad dash across the room, snatched the phone, dropped it, picked it back up, looked at the number that appeared up on the screen (Stan's) and then pressed talk. "Hello?" I asked breathlessly, easing myself down onto my bed and leaning against the wall.

"Kyle? Have you been running?" Stan's voice echoed through the phone. "You sound out of breath."

"Umm, yeah, I ran upstairs." I said, "Dude, did Kenny call you?"

"Yeah," Stan said, stammering slightly. "What do you think?"

"Twenty extra dollars, man." I said, almost a pleading tone to my voice. "Kenny also said that… um… anything else we can think of… we'd get an extra four dollars for every time we think of something different."

"I… oh, I dunno… only one time?" He questioned. I could hear him fumbling with something on the other end of the phone, and I could tell he was groping for his inhaler.

"Yeah." I said, scratching my haphazard burgundy mop and curling my lip slightly. "Damn… I don't believe we're doing this."

"Fuck me with a spoon." Stan moaned. I heard an abrupt hiss on the other end of the line and I knew he'd just used the inhaler. He breathed deeply for several minutes, then said, "God, what are we going to do?"

"I s'pose just go with it." I said, shrugging. "I don't think we've got any choice, or else Cartman would rip on us until we die."

"But… that's really a small price to pay, isn't it?"

"Not by Cartman's standards." I mumbled, "He'd probably put signs up all over the school… STAN MARSH AND KYLE BROFLOVSKI ARE NO-NUTS PUSSIES…"

Stan laughed feebly. "I suppose we are kind of pussies for acting this way about it."

"True." I said, twining a lock of curly hair around my finger and watching it spring back into place as I let go. "But we can prove we're not. Plus… think of the moneeeey." I dragged out the word in a low hiss of a voice for an added effect. "We can squeeze Fat-ass dry of every penny he's got."

"Poor Ken." Said Stan, "I bet he's going to be so broke it's not even funny…" He sighed. "Well… we're doing it, then?"

"S'pose so." I said grimly, nodding. "I'll talk to you later, Stan, okay? I've got to get ready for bed."

"Uh-huh… talk to you later, Kyle."

"Yeah, see you." I hung up the phone and put it down on the desk. I stood up, stretched, and strode over to my dresser. I pulled on my nightclothes (lounge pants and a huge, oversized t-shirt) and shuffled over towards the bathroom. While brushing my teeth next to Ike, I glared at my reflection in the mirror and scowled at it, and, accompanied with the toothpaste spilling from my mouth in a turquoise foam, I looked like a rabid, red-haired beast.

"Kyle," Ike asked me thickly through his own toothbrush. "Why do you keep getting so many phone calls?"

I cocked my head to the side and spat out the wad of foam. "Hm?" I asked, slightly confused. I'd only received two phone calls today that I knew about.

"Kenny called you again while you were on your cell." Ike explained, turning on the faucet and scooping some water up into his hands. He slurped at the water and spat it into the sink to rinse off his mouth.

"He did?" I asked in a garbled voice. I did the same as he did, rinsing my mouth in the same fashion. I sucked at my teeth slightly, feeling the cool mint sting my tongue, and slipped my toothbrush back into it's cup. Then, I reached for the floor. "What for? Did he say?"

"Uh, no," Ike replaced his own toothbrush. "He just said for you to call him as soon as you could."

I smirked and wound a string of floss around my forefingers. "Well, I'm not calling him at all tonight. He can wait." I passed Ike to floss, but he didn't take it. "Floss your damn teeth." I ordered, shaking the small plastic container at him.

"Don't swear, Kyle." Ike mocked, wrinkling his nose and taking the floss . "You sure waiting is such a good idea? I mean… what if it's something serious."

"Naw, knowing Kenny, it's probably just something-ouch." I ran my tongue over my bleeding gums. "Just something about doing his next girlfriend… or something stupid like that." I wadded the mint-flavored string into a ball and threw it into the trash.

"Doing his girlfriend? You mean banging her?"

I cuffed Ike over the head and booted him out of the bathroom. "Out, you. If you're gonna be sayin' crap like that, go to bed." I scolded, while a voice in my head screamed over and over again, HYPOCRITE, HYPOCRITE, HYPOCRITE.

Ike glared at me though beady black eyes. "Stoooop… I'm goooiiiinnng…" He whined, edging down the hall into his room.

I poked my head back into the bathroom again. I stared at myself in the mirror, my hands prying through the top drawer of the countertop to find a hairbrush. I hadn't brushed my hair after showering… it was sticking out all over the place. "God…" I murmured, running the comb through my scarlet locks. "I look like Shirley-fuckin'-Temple." I quickly combed out the back of my hair, and then put the comb away and strode off towards my room. With thoughts of Stan and I, kissing fiercely while Cartman and Kenny watched with hysterical laughter on their faces; thoughts of Ike becoming a misguided youth like I was, growing up Jewish and on the butt end of many bullies and jokes, while all the while swearing up the wahzoo and thinking of nothing but being accepted; thoughts of Stan and I, kissing fiercely while Cartman and Kenny watched; thoughts of the dread that Monday would finally bring; thoughts of Stan and I kissing fiercely; thoughts of the butt-load of money we were going to be rewarded with; thoughts of Stan and I….

I climbed into bed, and yanked the blankets up over my head. It was already dark in my room, the lights being off and the only light coming from my charging RAZR on my desk. The sheets over my head blocked out all traces of light left, and I was concealed in darkness. "I'm not gay." I said to my pillow, as though telling it everything would make it true. "I don't like Stan in a homosexual way. He is my best friend and we have been together for too long to be gay."

Thoughts of Stan… 


	3. Booty Camp

Auri's Notes: Wow, last chapter was long, eh? It took up seven pages on my Microsoft Word. XD This one won't be as overwhelming… or is overwhelmingly long chapters a good thing? -twitches-

Note that I do not own MTV and I have absolutely NOTHING against them… I'm a big fan of some of their shows. I also do not own Fig Newtons. :3 Wish I did, though, them things are GOOD.

I may have made some mistakes in this chapter, due to Kyle's diabetes… I have no idea if he can eat cinnamon OR fig newtons…

But, on that subject, I think Kyle's diabetes was actually a stunt done by the South Park creators to make that particular episode which one was it? I think I know which one it was, but I'm not positive make more sense, since I don't believe Kyle is diabetic in any of the other episodes… he is seen with copious amounts of candy and sugar in many other episodes…. DAMN YOU, MATT STONE AND TREY PARKER FOR CONFUSING ME! -then hugs them for making such an awesome show-

----

I called Kenny early Saturday morning. He was still in bed, according to his mother, but she went to go wake him up. When he finally picked up the phone, he sounded tired.

And pissed.

"What the I hell /I do you want, Kyle?" He griped, and I could hear him yawn. "It's 7:00 in the morning on a SATURDAY… call me back later." He hung up the phone before I could get another word out. Damn him.

"Bastard." I muttered, putting down my phone and heaving myself up out of my comfortable chair again. Man, it was so cold out this morning. Again. Shivering, I strode over to my dresser, picked out a set of clothes for the day, and hurried off to take a shower without saying 'Good Morning' to any of my family.

My shower was quick and relaxing, and it definitely woke me up. After doing my hair and brushing my teeth, I went to the dryer to make sure my coat was dry. It was slightly damp, but good enough to wear outside. Since I wasn't going anywhere for a few hours, I hung it up over the dryer and let it drip dry. My hat was completely dry, so I jammed it on my head… even though I wasn't going anywhere for a few hours.

With a forced smile on my face, I hurried into the kitchen where I was greeted with the warm smell of cooking. I made an incoherent sound, intending to blearily mumble the word, "Foood," and instead coming out with, "Moooose."

Ike laughed slightly as I sat down beside him. "Morning, Kyle. Did you call Kenny last night?" I shook my head.

"Nope. I told you I wasn't going to… I called him this morning, but the little prick hung up on me."

"What's a prick?"

"Fuck- I mean, shit, er-nuts, ah crap!" I prattled, making an odd flapping gesture in Ike's face. "Nothing, it's nothing," I said quickly, avoiding my mother's stern gaze. She was still strict as ever, of course.

Ike looked at me for a few minutes, obviously interested, but didn't say anything except, "He hung up?"

"Yeah." I said, drool flooding my mouth as soon as my mother placed a piece of French toast on my plate. "I'm gonna give him a call after I eat… maybe he'll be awake then. What time is it now?"

My father answered me, buried in the newspaper. "8:14." He said shortly, glancing at the clock over the paper. "That Kenny sure sleeps in a lot."

"No kidding." I mumbled through a cinnamon drenched piece of toast. "He's on the brink of laziness. He's going to turn out to be like Cartman if he keeps sleeping his days away." What a lie! Kenny spends all of his time in the bed, but he's sure as hell not sleeping… But I couldn't tell them that…

Ike laughed at this, but didn't comment. He shoveled his toast into his mouth with lightning speed, and quickly pushed his chair back from the table. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" Asked our father. He peered over the edge over the paper at Ike.

"Um, I'm meeting Chris at the playground," Ike said, rummaging through the closet and looking for his jacket. "We're going to hang out there for a while and then probably go back to his house and play video games."

Good. At least you're not doing pot and getting mixed up with talking turds. I thought with a small cringe, watching Ike intently for a few seconds before turning back to my food. I had eaten it quicker than I thought. Kenny had better be awake… I stood up from the table, grabbed Ike's plate as well as mine, and left to go and put them in the sink.

Back in my room, I was waiting for Kenny to pick up his phone.

"You sure as hell like to get up early don't you?" Came his frustrated voice that was laced with tiredness.

"Whassamatter, Ken, were you up late last night?" I badgered, a sly grin spreading over my face as I pictured his reaction.

His reaction was silence for a few seconds, and then, "No."

I didn't believe it for a second, so I just laughed and said, "Okay… what did you call me for?"

"Oh, um, Cartman wants us all to meet at the elementary playground for a quick run-over of plans… he also wants to show you guys the money."

I nodded, and said, "Okay… did you call Stan, does he know?"

"Yeah, he does. We're meeting at 9:00, so hurry your ass up." Kenny said. "Make sure you don't tell Ike or your pare-"

Ike! "Oh, SHIT, Kenny, Ike's going to the elementary school playground as well… I can't go there and practice being gay with him around." I said hurriedly, feeling my heart skip a beat.

"Dammit." I heard Kenny mumble, he cleared his throat and spoke again. "Well, how about… um… at Stan's house? I'll call him and make sure that's okay… then I'll call you back…"

"Fine." I nodded, and said, "Talk to you later, Kenny."

"Wait-" Kenny said quickly. "Kyle… um… about the bet… six bucks. For the creative little things."

"Boy, you're just intent on sucking yourself out of money, aren't you?"

"I got paid last week, I have enough to spare." He said. "But… see you later, Kyle."

"Gotcha… bye." I hung up my phone with a shake of my head, resting my forehead on the palms of my hands and groaning slightly. This was going to be pure hell. I drummed my fingers on my desk and waited for Kenny to call. After ten minutes of waiting, I slipped my phone into my pocket and trudged back down into the kitchen, intent on some orange juice.

----

Kenny called me about a half an hour later. I was sitting on the couch, watching a Family Guy DVD and feeling very bored. Kenny's call lasted thirty seconds all he said was, "It's okay, get over here." And then he hung up.

I turned off the television and stood up, heading back towards the dryer to retrieve my coat. "Bye, mom, I'm gonna go meet the guys." I yelled over my shoulder as I slipped through the door.

It was cold and wet. An icy drizzle was falling down weakly, as though it had just gotten done with a rainstorm. I shoved my hands into the comfort of my pockets and plodded down the wet streets, shivering slightly. Stan's house was already in view, having only been a short walk away, so I sped up slightly, eager to get out of the cold.

I could see Kenny knocking on Stan's door, with Cartman at his side. I skidded into Stan's driveway, and felt myself falling through chilly air.

I landed on the cement with a noise that sounded like a cross between a yelp and a grunt. I felt a hand on my coat collar, helping me up. I blinked dazed eyes at Kenny's blonde head and groaned slightly, one hand massaging my bruised elbow. "Goddamn that hurt." I muttered, listening to Cartman's derisory laughter.

"Looked like it." Kenny laughed, hooking an arm around my shoulder and herding me towards the door. Stan opened his front door, looking slightly confused.

"What happened?" He asked, nodding towards me and Kenny.

"The clumsy Jew tripped." Cartman said nonchalantly. I leaned forward and smacked him in the back of the head. "Ay!"

"Shut up, Fat-ass, let's get on with this thing." I grunted, shoving him through the door and into the warmth of Stan's house. Kenny let go of me and hurried over to flop himself on Stan's couch with a contented sigh.

I sat down next to him, while Stan sat on his other side, but Cartman suddenly smacked me on the head with something I recognized as a ruler. Blinking at the stars that danced in front of my eyes, I managed to yell out, "What the HELL was that for?"

"You and your partner must sit next to each other at any and all given times." Cartman instructed, waving the ruler at me. I glanced at Stan, who was massaging the back of his head. Clearly I wasn't the only one who'd been battered.

"Fine…" I mumbled, standing up and trading Kenny places.

"Sit closer." Cartman ordered. I moved in closer to Stan. "Closer." I inched slightly further towards him. "Cloooooosseeer." By this time, our shoulders were pressed together so close that it was uncomfortable.

Cartman cleared his throat. "Now, when it comes to gay people, the more assertive man is usually the one that plays the man; while the weaker and milder man plays the woman. Kyle, since you're the wimp, you'll be the woman."

I scowled and bit back an angry retort.

"Now, Stan, since you're the dude, I want you to put your arm around Kyle's waist." He poked at Stan's left arm with the ruler. Kenny giggled slightly, and Stan and I both turned our heads to shoot him a nasty look. Stan then gave me an uneasy glance and slid his arm around my lower back. I trembled slightly, and Stan gave a shaky laugh.

"Ay!" Cartman slapped Stan with the ruler yet again. "No laughing during class!"

"Why not?" Stan protested, glowering up at Cartman and grinding his teeth together so stridently that I think even Kenny heard it. "Laughing is a sin for queers, is it?"

Cartman looked thoughtful for a few minutes, and then said, "Okay, you can laugh. But not at any jokes about men… remember, they are the superior race."

"Superior race my-"

"As I was saying , Kyle, since you are the female, yah will need to respond in an adequate manner like a girl would. You can either A. kiss him on the cheek, B. giggle like a little pusseh, or C. snuggle into his shouldah."

I did nothing for several minutes, feeling quite stupid with Stan grasping me in a one-armed hug, Cartman glaring at me, and Kenny laughing his head off next to me in the couch. I shifted uncomfortably, and then slowly leaned over and put my head on his shoulder. This is so fucking humiliating. I glanced at Kenny, who had both hands pressed over his mouth in a fit of silent laughter.

"Fantahstic," Said Cartman, nodding favorably and smacking the ruler against his palm attentively. "Stan, it's your turn. Move your arm up onto Kyle's shoulder and tighten your grip."

"Cartman," Stan said, shifting into the correct position and scowling. "How do you know so much about how gay people act?"

"It's all thanks to MTV." He answered in a flash, fishing in his pocket for something. "Now, I want you guys to stay that way…don't move. I'm gonna show you guys the money you will be receiving for doing this. Kenny, get yours." He jabbed at Kenny with the ruler. Kenny yelped and began to probe into his pockets.

Soon, $60 were spread out in front of each of us, accompanied with a wad of fives and ones that Kenny had produced from his pocket.

"Kenny, I take it, has told yah why we're upping the bet to sixteh each?" Cartman asked pensively, cocking his head slightly. We both nodded simultaneously, giving each other introspective looks. "Good." Cartman said, scooping up the money back up into his hands. He produced a small metal lunchbox from seemingly nowhere and stuffed the bills into the box, and then, using a small diary lock, sealed and locked the box. "There we go." He said, shaking the box for added effect.

Stan's shoulder was very rigid and uncomfortable. I shifted slightly so that I was now resting upon his upper arm. Cartman then lashed out and smacked me with the ruler again.

"AH, GODDAMMIT CARTMAN!" I shouted, keeping both hands pressed on my head to shield myself from his blows. "What did I do this time?"

"Yah moved." He snapped. "I told yah not to move."

"But," I objected, narrowing my eyes at him. "Stan, no offense dude," I glanced at Stan, "your shoulder is so uncomfortable."

Stan shrugged and said, "Whatever…" Cartman, however, hit me again.

"STOP IT!"

"I'll stop when yah respect mah fuckin' authoritah." The other retorted, poking my hat with the ruler. "Now shut your Goddamn mouth and listen up." I growled angrily under my breath and crossed my arms. "Kenny, would you like to stand up and here and demonstrate a gay hug?"

Kenny leapt to his feet and stood next to Cartman, staring at each of Stan and I in turn with one finger in his chin in thought. He then leaned down and pulled Stan to his feet. I was glad to relax for a few minutes, so I propped up my head in my hands and watched.

Kenny positioned Stan so that he was standing perfectly still with his arms outstretched. Stan looked very nervous, and he kept shooting me horrified looks. Kenny took a couple steps back, made a marquee with his thumbs and forefingers, before crouching down like a track runner would. Then, in a flash, he leapt on Stan in a huge bear hug, burying his face into Stan's own. Stan tensed up completely and yelled, shoving Kenny away with both hands and floundering away backwards. He tripped, fell down, and was instantly set upon by Cartman's ruler.

"AH! OW! DAMMIT! FUCK! SHIT! STOP! STOP! FUCK! OW!"

"Dude, you are so lucky your parents are in Nevada." I shook my head in disbelief. "They would have so kicked your ass if they would've heard you talking like that…" I laughed slightly.

Stan was wiping Kenny's saliva from his face, hopping up and down on the spot and yelping like a wounded dog. "He… He…" Stan pointed uselessly at Kenny, who was doubled over in hysterics. "He grabbed my ass!" Stan finally spat out, both hands now behind his back and presumably shielding his butt from Kenny's groping hands.

My jaw dropped, and I turned to Cartman. "Oh, HELL no… I am not having my ass grabbed and neither am I going to grab Stan's ass." I shook my head hurriedly, clinging to the couch for dear life.

"Okay then," Cartman unlocked the box and withdrew twenty dollars. "You'll get this back when I see some ass-grabbin'."

I glanced at Stan, who shook his head frantically. He was flushing crimson, and backed up against the wall. "No." I said to Cartman, shaking my head. "We'll make up the money some other way."

Cartman shrugged. "Fine, let's see you come up with something else worth twenty bucks." He stuffed the twenty into his pocket and crossed his arms. "But I want to see you guys hug."

I stood up, strode across the room with my limbs feeling like rubber, and stood in front of Stan. He stared back at me, looking petrified. I lifted my arms to hug him, and then turned to Kenny. "Do I have to barrel into him like a running back?"

Kenny was thoughtful for a few minutes. "Umm… yeah."

"And do I have to lick him?" I asked, curling my lip in distaste. Kenny was again silent for a few minutes, and then shook his head.

"Nah. We'll get into that later. Just hug him. Stan, get away from the wall." Kenny motioned for Stan to move with one hand. Stan slowly obliged, taking a few steps away from the wall.

I took a few steps back away as well to give myself some room. "Sorry." I muttered to Stan, before running across the room and leaping at him. In all but a few seconds, my arms were curled around his neck and my face nestled into his chest, while he was kind of frozen in place with his arms in the environs of my hips.

"Good!" Kenny praised, patting each of us on the head in turn. We broke apart after a couple seconds and did not make eye contact, both of us blushing furiously. "You finally did something right…" Kenny fished into his pocket and put a Fig Newton onto each of our heads.

"Why the hell did you just put a Fig Newton on my head?" Stan asked through clenched teeth. Kenny chuckled.

"Just so you would ask me that question…" He took the Fig Newtons back and handed one to each of us. "It's not one you hear every day, is it?"

Thinking vaguely how retarded Kenny was today, I munched on my pastry while glaring at Cartman. He was sprawled on the couch and eyeing us like a professor would eye his misbehaving class. I flipped him off while finishing off my Fig Newton, and folded my arms. "Are we done?" I asked, glancing at Kenny.

"Nope." Kenny shook his head and took off his parka, revealing a black Terrance and Phillip shirt underneath. He cracked his knuckles and glared at us with a kind of fierce happiness in his eyes, grinning. "We're just getting started."

"Kenny," Cartman spoke up. "Did I ever tell you that you look frickin' retarded with orange pants and a black shirt."

"Shut up, Cartman." Kenny snapped, "Now… Stan." He pushed Stan and I back together so hard that our heads knocked together.

Blinking back the blinding pain, I staggered away from Stan and Kenny, hands fused to my forehead in pain. "Owowowowowow…"

"Pussy." Cartman remarked, standing up with a sigh and striding over to me. He raised his ruler to hit me, but through my delirium, I managed to catch his wrist in midair and snatch the ruler away from him. "Super weak." Cartman muttered, folding his arms and sitting back down on the couch.

I put the ruler into my pocket, where the top stuck out, and watched as Kenny lectured Stan on being more flexible. "Kyle did it right," Kenny was saying. "He was lithe and actually moved. You just kinda… stood there…This time, I want you to put one hand on Kyle's waist and another on his upper back." Stan nodded numbly. "And also… don't just stand there… go to meet him as he's coming towards you."

Stan nodded again, and scrabbled for his inhaler in his pocket. "Hang on." He rasped, stuffing the mouth of the inhaler into his mouth and swallowing in the vapor that expelled from the mouthpiece. He breathed deep for a couple seconds, and nodded. "Okay, let's do this…" He said breathily. He took a couple more paces away from me and steadied himself.

I swallowed very hard and nodded. "I just do what I did last time?" I asked shakily, cocking my head slightly in question. Oh please don't make me lick him…

"Yup." Cartman said, nodding. "G'wan, let's keep goin" He waved a hand at us, which, thank God, had no ruler clutched in it.

Stan and I made uneasy eye contact. Kenny counted off on his fingers. "Okay, three… two… one… HUG!"

Stan and I moved towards each other with cautious but quick movements. I clung to his neck again and nuzzled his neck, while Stan did as Kenny instructed and coiled one arm around my waist and the other on my shoulders. We stood there for a few seconds, while Kenny and Cartman were silent as the grave.

Cartman suddenly burst out with laughter, pointing at us in our embrace. I let go of Stan, strode across the room, whipped out the ruler, and broke it over his head. 


	4. Bite Me

Auri's Notes:

Don't hate me because I have school. Pleeeze. XD I'm a freshman this year, so I have like, no time to write… only on weekends. And I'm sometimes busy on weekends, too! Argh!

----------------------

Sunday passed with bouts of pure hell as our training continued. Cartman and Kenny were brutal drill sergeants who put us through our paces for about ten hours a day. And it was during one of our few breaks that Kenny posed the strangest question I've never heard.

It was about noon, and we were sitting around the table and eating lunch. Stan had driven up to the nearest fast food restaurant (thank God he was 16 and could legally drive) and brought us back our food.

I gnawed on the straw of my diet cola and drummed my fingers on the edge of the table. "You guys got any other ideas for what Stan and I could do to make up that twenty bucks?" We hadn't thought of anything at all yet. Everything else was too meek or too disgusting.

Kenny had a thoughtful look on his face, and I felt my heart sink. Whatever Kenny was thinking of, it couldn't have been good news. "What's your take on…" He trailed off, his head in his hands. He was looking from Stan to me, an innocent look in his eyes. "Umm…"

"G'wan, Kenny." Stan said sternly, chomping on his chicken nugget. "As much as we're all dying to hear…"

"Assless chaps?"

I sprayed coke from my mouth in a fit of helpless shock. Stan yelled something that I couldn't hear and stuffed his inhaler into his mouth as quickly as he could. Cartman fell off of his chair laughing, and Kenny just sat there, grinning sheepishly.

I coughed and spluttered for a few more minutes, gasping for air with my eyes streaming and my throat raw. "Oh, don't everybody help at once." I managed to choke out, before I was caught under a fit of relentless coughing. Stan leaned over and thumped me rigorously on my back several times, which more or less knocked the wind out of me instead of helping.

After a few more minutes, my breathing returned to normal and I managed to calm myself enough to talk normally. "Ugh…" I wiped my mouth and eyes with my hands and staggered off to the bathroom to clean myself up.

I splashed cold water on my face several times, before toweling myself dry and glaring at myself in the mirror. My face was red, my eyes bloodshot and distressed. I, overall, did not look like a happy camper. I threw the towel back down by the sink and strode out of the bathroom, clearing my throat.

"Sorry, Stan." I managed to chuckle. Stan was on his knees under the table, cleaning up the exhaled soda with a rag. "Lemme do it." I snatched the cloth from him and finished the job. Stan laughed and sat back down in his chair.

"What the hell, Kyle, say it, don't spray it." He said, dipping a chicken nugget into some ketchup and watching me toil on the ground below him.

"Just don't kick me." I said, standing up from my position on the ground and tossing the rag into the kitchen sink. "It's bad enough that I choked on the soda…and get the hell up, Cartman, it wasn't that funny."

Cartman picked himself up from the floor and slumped over the table, laughing hysterically. "Okay, okay, I'm done…" He sniggered, resting his forehead in his hands and hunching over his burger. He looked rather like a fat, laughing gargoyle.

"Damn right." I muttered, sitting back down into my chair and removing my coat. I had spilled coke all down the front of it. Today, I was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with a monkey holding a stick of dynamite on it. "When are we going to be done with this frickin' booty camp anyway?" Booty camp was the name that Kenny had given me and Stan's two days of gay-training. I did not find it particularly amusing, but the name stuck anyway.

"Tomorrow," Kenny replied, shrugging slightly and eating a French fry. "Or tonight, if you like. Depends on how much progress we feel you and Stan have made."

Stan scowled, but said nothing. I did, however. "Well, how much progress have we made?" I asked, sucking down the rest of my cola in between breaths.

Kenny shrugged again. "Depends. When was the last time you guys kissed?"

"Earlier today before lunch." Stan recited dully, resting his head on the table and his shoulders hunching over. "And I kissed Kyle on the forehead because he sat down next to me."

"Right-o." Kenny grinned and winked, giving us the thumbs up. "Stan, you gotta really feel the love for Kyle…don't make it all an act… feel something! Stop being a mannequin!" He said with an outrageous show of bravado. Cartman laughed again.

I rolled my eyes and felt a blush slither up my face. "He can be a mannequin if he damn well wants to." I grunted, folding my arms angrily.

"Fine then, that's twenty more bucks gone." Cartman spoke up. Stan and I jumped, Stan letting our a startled yelp and shaking his head hurriedly.

"Okay, okay!" He held up his hands defensively. "I'll be better, I promise!" Stan's face was stricken, shaking his head fiercely.

"Show me." Cartman taunted, cocking a finger in our direction in a beckoning gesture. "After lunch."

----

It was not fun. It was my turn to sit there, like a frozen doll, while Stan gently massaged my shoulders. Far from making me feel relaxed, I was about as tensed as a stick. Cartman and Kenny watched us for a few seconds, both of their faces intent and thoughtful.

This is a load of bullshit. I found myself thinking, closing my eyes tight and cringing as Stan hit a particularly sensitive spot under my shoulder blades. Not that it hurt, of course, but his hands were cold.

"Okay, that's enough, guys." Cartman said, nodding shortly. "Now… that was pretteh good, 'cept for you, Kyle." He jabbed a finger in my direction. "You definitely hafta be more flexible when it comes to massaging."

Kenny was kneeling on the floor beside Cartman with his head resting on the coffee table. "Kyle, could you sit on Stan's lap like we practiced earlier?"

Gingerly, I slid myself onto Stan's lap and leaned against his shoulder. Stan put a tentative arm around me and pulled me tighter to him. Cartman nodded slowly, tapping his finger against his chin.

Kenny suddenly jumped. "Oh, shit, what time is it?" He glanced at his watch, and then fished in his coat pockets. He pulled out his cell phone, and pressed a couple buttons.

"Whatcha doin'?" Cartman leaned over Kenny's shoulder to look at his phone.

"Um… Craig was supposed to IM me with Mr. Cross's book report due date." Kenny muttered, his tongue in his teeth. "I hate Mr. Cross. I hate Fundamental English, too."

Kenny, unlike Cartman, Stan, and I, had not passed his Freshman year of English and was retaking it in a special class called Fundamental English.

Kenny pressed a few more buttons on his phone, and a couple beeping sounds were heard. "Did he message you?" Stan asked, shifting slightly and sliding his arm further up my shoulder.

Kenny shook his head. "Nope… shit." He put his phone back into his pocket and folded his arms upon the coffee table, resting his head upon them now.

"That sucks." I noted. "Can we… move?" I widened my eyes slightly, trying to communicate a desperate message to Kenny. Kenny was silent, for a few minutes, before replying.

"Uh… yeah." He nodded in affirmation and waved at us. "But… will you guys do me a favor?"

"What?" Stan asked, pushing me off of his lap. I was glad to get off.

"I want you guys to retry the kissing thing." Kenny said, furrowing his brow. "I didn't quite get the… y'know… vibes." In atonement to my questioning look, he elaborated. "You guys didn't seem like you meant it." He translated, shrugging.

"Good ideah." Cartman said. "I noticed that you gahs were kind of stiff, yah know?" He motioned for us to get back into position. "G'head, do it…"

Tremulously, we leaned in to each other. I couldn't bring myself to meet Stan's blue eyes, so I closed my own in a subtle show of humiliation. Cartman let out a soft laugh, while Kenny was fiddling with his cell phone again. (It had made a beeping sound, indicating an IM.)

"Stop laughing, Cartman." I heard Stan mumble from a very close distance. "It's not funny." I felt him shift slightly on the couch. I couldn't bear it anymore - I opened my eyes. They were about two inches from Stan's own eyes. We paused, and just looked at each other. For a long time.

"Goddammit, get on with it!" Cartman snapped.

I didn't tear my gaze away from Stan. As our lips joined together, I felt what seemed to be a kind of high, but I was well aware of my actions and the feeling coursing through me. I felt his teeth brush against mine, a strange, grating feeling that made a shiver rip up my spine. I pushed against him slightly, and my teeth parted ever so slightly...

"Ow!" Stan suddenly reeled backwards away from me, one hand clamped over his mouth. I leaned backwards, feeling confused. What had happened?

"What happened?" I asked dazedly, rubbing my head slightly and furrowing my brow. I hadn't felt anything wrong... was it something that I had done? Oh, God, I was about to lose all friendship with Stan, I just knew it. He looked slightly abashed.

"You... you bit me!" Stan blurted, with his hand still over his mouth and his eyes wide. "You bit me!" He repeated, sounding very muffled beneath his hand.

"What?" I echoed, my jaw dropping slightly. I had no memory of ever biting him… had I actually done that? "Wha… where?"

Cartman broke into a fit of laughter, while Kenny put away his cell phone, having apparently not been paying any attention. "Damn, Kyle!" Cartman spouted, still laughing his head off. "I didn't mean for you to that that into it!"

I felt myself blushing furiously, but said nothing. Stan lowered his hand from his mouth and glanced at his hand, then ran his tongue over his lower lip. "You bit my lip…" Stan mumbled, gently running his index finger knuckle over the inside of his bottom lip. He pulled his hand away, examined it, and then wiped it on his jeans. "Jesus, dude…"

I edged away from him, my head buzzing with mortification, atrocity, and horror. Ohshitohshitohshit… "Um… sorry?" I grit my teeth, and swallowed very hard. "I didn't know I had…" I trailed off, feeling my breathing increase dramatically.

"Ow… man…" Stan licked his lower lip again and wiped his mouth. "That hurt…"

"I said sorry." I said bluntly, hearing my voice coming from a great distance away. "I didn't know that's what I did… I don't even remember doing anything."

Cartman stood up and stood in front of me. "Congratulations, Kyle." He announced, fishing in his pocket. "You have just earned yahrself that twenty dollahs back." He waved the twenty in my face, and then went to go and put it into the money box.

I finally glanced at Stan. He was looking pointedly away, but his eyes slowly turned around to face me, then his head followed. I swallowed hard. "Look, man…" I began, unsure of what I was even about to say.

"No," Stan said, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. At least we got the money back." He said, shrugging. I opened my mouth to speak, but Stan held up a hand to silence me. "Seriously dude, it's fine."

"Uh…. 'kay." I said uneasily, twisting my fingers between one another. I was silent for a few more minutes, deciding what to say, and then, "Does it hurt?"

"No." Stan said, "It did, though, but not any more." He glanced at Kenny, who looked as though he was trying to stifle his laughter. Kenny returned Stan's gaze with a kind of petty innocence which fooled none of us.

"What?" He asked, cocking his head slightly.

"Stop laughing, Ken." I muttered, just as Cartman came stomping back into the room. "Oookay, guys, I think we're done here." He clapped his hands together and dipped his fat head in a small nod. "You guys can go and do whatever gay guys do, while Kenny and I have some issues to discuss."

I stood up quickly, eager to get the hell out of there, and dug around behind the couch to receive my coat. "Thank God." I mumbled, slipping my sleeves into the well-worn orange coat and tossing a sideways glance at Stan. He was reclining back in the seat, narrowing his eyes at Cartman.

"I don't have to go ANYWHERE." Stan said firmly. "This is MY house."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck out of heeyah, bitch, and let Kenny and I do our work!" He folded his arms angrily and sneered at us.

"Come on, Stan, let's go to my place." I offered quietly, tapping Stan's shoulder with my fist. "We can play a couple hours of Deathcrash and wait for these guys," I jabbed my thumb over at Kenny and Fat-ass. "To let us know when we can come back over here."

"Just get out of here." Cartman waved us away, and trundled back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, we'll call you." Kenny said, standing up and stretching. "Go have fun and play videogames. It'll be the last game you play as a straight guy."

"For a week." I finalized, narrowing my eyes at him. He grinned sheepishly and waved his hands in an innocent gesture.

"I'm kidding, dudes." Kenny chuckled, shrugging. "Now get the hell out of here."

"Bye, Ken." I said quietly, herding Stan out the door with one hand and glaring back at him as I did so. He seemed eager to get rid of us… but then again, he and Cartman did have work, according to them.

"See ya." He said, grinning cheerily and following Cartman.

----- ((KENNY'S POINT OF VIEW))

I saw the look in Kyle's eyes and it scared the shit out of me. What had played through his mind as I had shooed them out? He looked… suspicious. Had he known what was about to happen to him? What was he going to do… if he found out.

"You got them, then?" I glanced up at Cartman's voice, which was full of excitement and impatience. "Thank God that Craig IMed you in time!"

"Yeah." I said shakily, pulling out my cell phone. I felt queasy, the touch of the warm phone in my hands and the look of Kyle's eyes boring into mine repeating in my mind. "I got them… how much are you paying Craig, again?" I asked, trying to keep conversation from falling out as I pressed buttons on my cell phone.

"Just two dollahs." Cartman shrugged. "It's not that big of a favah… just the texting fee will cost 'im. Now lemme seeee." He bounced up and down ecstatically, a manic grin on his face.

"Okay, okay!" I handed him the phone, hating myself. I didn't want to have to do it to them. It was mean. And cruel, sick, wicked, hurtful, destroying, bad, evil…

Cartman let out a soft cackle as he flipped through the photos on my camera phone. My curiosity aroused, I leaned forward to look at them. Stan and Kyle, curled up together on the couch with their arms around each other. Then, there was Kyle with his head buried in Stan's shoulder, a close-up of the previous picture. The next ones were of Stan and Kyle kneeling on the couch, faces buried in each other as they kissed.

"God…" I muttered, swallowing hard. It was a strange thing to see them together like that, still and forever unmoving in a kiss. I had seen it firsthand, of course, but it was still a bizarre thing to look at… like what I had just seen hadn't happened.

"We've got to download these as fast as we can!" Cartman cackled, shutting the phone off and handing it to me. "I can't wait until school…"


	5. False Love

Auri's Notes: Evil little bastards, ain't they? x3 This chapter's a tad angst-y. Stan and Kyle are so tensed up it's not even funny. At the end, it's a bit easier for them, though…

(Back to Kyle's POV, later that day...)

"Jesus, I hate this game!" Stan was snarling from his spot on the floor, as he pounded restlessly on the buttons of my Playstation2 controller. I sat above him on the couch, legs folded and eyes riveted to the screen. Stan and I had been playing Deathcrash for three hours and counting. My fingers were sore, and my eyes were bloodshot from not blinking for so long, but the game was so damn addictive. It seemed to have never happened, the fact that we'd just been smooching hours before was behind us and pushed out of our minds.

All that we had was zombies, guns, blood, and the Playstation.

"Well, don't play it anymore..." I muttered back, kneading my hands into the cushion of the couch. "Let me have a turn for once."

"Noooo..." Stan groaned, leaning forward slightly so that his face was about six inches from the screen, mashing the controller's buttons with enough force to knock over the television.

"Take it easy on my controller, dude," I said, finally looking down at him and poking the back of his neck. "If you break it, you're buying me another one!"

"'kay." Came the reply. I had a sneaking doubt in the back of my head that Stan hadn't heard a word I had said. Whatever, though, it was his own loss.

The front door opened, and the sound of sudden laughter filled the room. Both Stan and I looked around to see Ike, and his friend Chris, bashing through the door, talking animatedly. A gust of wind burst through the door after them, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself to get warm. "Oh!" Ike paused, and grinned sheepishly. "Hey, Kyle; hey Stan."

"Hi, Ike." I said, craning my neck to look out the half-open door. It was sleeting outside, both rain and snow were falling down like bullets from the sky. "Can you shut the door?"

Ike nodded and pushed the door shut. "Sorry. What are you guys doing?" He asked, taking off his coat and throwing it over the back of the couch.

"Just playing-"

"GAME OVER! MWAHAHAHAHAH!" Roared the game.

"Aw, fuck." Stan spat, kicking out at the television with one foot and crossing his arms. "That SUCKS!" He threw down the controller and clambered up onto the couch, pouting.

"Stan, don't swear in front of my brother." I kicked him lightly with a foot. He grunted and reached forward to shut my PS2 off. "Did you die?"

"Yes." He grumbled, glaring at the blank television screen. "I hate that game."

"Oh, stop lying." I picked up the remote and switched the T.V. off, before running a hand through my hair and squinting at the black screen. Flashing lights were dancing in front of my eyes for some reason.

"Hey, Kyle?" Ike asked me, leaning over the back of the couch. Chris stayed slightly behind, looking a bit nervous.

"Yeah?" I leapt off the couch and knelt before my PS2. I began to wind the controller cords around the controller. Stan stretched out on the couch with his black hair spilling over his face, his eyes closed.

"What's a fag?"

"A cigarette." I said bluntly, not looking up. "British people use the word."

"Oh. Because I heard Cartman saying it today… we seen him outside the drug store. He was with Kenny. They were talking about 'gay fags'."

I froze in cold horror. Cartman couldn't have told my brother… could he? "D-did Cartman say anything else to you? Like… did he mention us?"

Stan's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright, looking scared. He curled his knees up to his chest, staring avidly at Ike.

Ike took a step back, unnerved. "No!" He said quickly, shaking his head. "He didn't notice me."

Thank you, God.

"Oh. Okay." Stan said in a voice of apparently forced calm. "See you later, Ike, we're going to go and take a walk." He stood up, and pulled me to my feet. "Let's go, Kyle."

"By the way, Ike, tell mom and dad that I'm staying over at Stan's tonight, okay?" I said shakily. Ike nodded in affirmation.

I sighed and pulled my coat on. Ike watched me for a few seconds, then shepherded Chris away and up the stairs. I forced my shoes into my feet and looked over at Stan. "I'll kill him." I hissed angrily, under my breath. "If Cartman said a single word to my brother about… you know…" I jammed my ushanka on my head and pulled Stan out the door, slamming it very hard behind me.

"Dude, calm down." Stan said quietly, putting a hand up. "I'm sure Cartman wouldn't be that much of a jackass."

"No, he would." I retorted, storming down the sidewalk, against the gale of sleet. "I know Cartman too well to think he wouldn't."

"But…"

"Stan," I turned around to face my friend, "We've known Cartman for 16 long and sorrowful years. How many times has he NOT been a jackass?"

Stan was silent. He bowed his head in defeat, and nodded. "You're right." He said finally. "Cartman WOULD."

We kept walking in silence. I glanced at Stan once in a while. His eyes were glued to the ground, hands stuffed into his coat pockets.

"Where exactly are we going?" I asked him finally, pausing to look at him.

He shrugged. "I dunno. You're leading."

"But it was your idea…" I protested, furrowing my brow. Stan was acting very strange for some reason. But then again, I wasn't all that surprised…

"Oh, fine… let's go and see if we can find Cartman." Stan mumbled, shrugging loosely. "Let's hurry- he's probably at the drugstore still."

The two of us sped up into a brisk walk, narrowing our eyes against the sleet that poured down upon us. The drugstore was in sight, but barely. "Hurry!" I cried out, putting a hand to my face to shield it from the wind. "The wind's picking up!"

I could make out the doors of the drugstore pushing themselves open, as light flooded out into the gloomy day. Two forms spilled out of the store, searching through a paper bag they had clutched between them. One of them I could discern as… Cartman.

"Hey!" I heard Stan yell beside me. Apparently, he had spotted them, too. Cartman looked up, as did his companion (who I now saw was Kenny, with his hood up). Kenny looked around wildly, and suddenly bolted across the street, Cartman puffing along behind them.

"What the fuck are they doing?" I screamed, not bothering to look at Stan. Stan did not answer, but sped up slightly so that he was running next to me. I stole a glance at him - his face was twisted into one of bewilderment, and a few black hairs stuck from underneath his hat (which was in danger of blowing off his head).

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!" Stan finally yelled.

I couldn't see them anymore. They had disappeared into the blizzard. I skidded to a halt, panting, and reached out a hand to grab Stan's coat pocket. "Stop… Stan…" I said breathlessly, fighting to keep him from running across the street and getting hit by a car. "Please… we're not going to catch them."

Stan stopped. His breathing was agonizingly strained, one hand pressed against his chest. "Why… did they run?" He gasped, wincing against the trauma of his breathing. "Why… did they-" Stan stopped, and let out a few choking sounds.

Frozen, amantharine horror rushed into my veins, as I realized what was happening. "Ohfuck!" I blurted, my hands on Stan's shoulder to keep him standing. Stan jerked slightly, gasping for air with both hands crossed over his ribs. Yelping like a wounded dog, I crammed my fingers into Stan's pockets, searching wildly for his inhaler. I found it in his coat pocket, uncapped it, and held it to Stan's mouth. "BREATHE, DAMMIT!" I found myself yelling over and over again, as Stan clenched his teeth around the inhaler. I pressed down on the button, releasing the mist into his lungs. Stan collapsed to the icy sidewalk, pulling me with him. My knees hit the sidewalk at an odd angle, and I let out another yelp. Stan knelt on the frozen cement, one hand clinging to my shoulder for support and the other hand against his chest. He panted for a few seconds, and then coughed a couple times. He raised his head to look at me, his face red and strained, and his eyes bloodshot.

"Thanks." He wheezed, a smile cracking over his face.

I stared in cold fear, my eyes wide and petrified. "Jesus Christ…" I whispered. I realized that I was trembling. "That scared the shit out of me."

"How do you think I felt?" Stan coughed, heaving himself to his feet. His jeans were soaking wet now, from crouching on the sleet below. "I couldn't breathe, you dumbass."

I bit my lip and hung my head, feeling guilty for some reason. "Sorry." I said dumbly, not making eye contact.

Stan laughed weakly, pulling me to my feet. "You saved my freakin' life, Kyle, and you apologize?" He punched my shoulder slightly, then began to steer me into the warm store. "God… you're crazy."

"Uhm…" Was all I could muster. The doors opened automatically to allow us in. It was definitely warm in the store, and the light that was blaring down from every direction was nearly blinding. I glanced at Stan nervously, and then at the cashier. "Excuse me," I said to the guy, trying to look innocent. "But the two people who were in here a few minutes ago, a big fat guy in red and a guy in an orange parka-could you tell me what they did while they were in here, please?"

The man squinted at me, and shook his head. "Sorry, kid, no can do. Customer activity is confidential to other patrons."

"That's bullshit!" Stan burst out angrily, slamming his fist down onto the counter top. "Mister, we REALLY need to know what they were doing, there's an entire reputation at stake!"

The guy rolled his eyes. "No, kid, now get out of here before I call the manager."

I put an arm on Stan's shoulder. I didn't want him to get worked up again. "Shut up, Stan, let's just leave the guy alone." I wheedled. "Come on…" Stan allowed himself to be tugged away from the counter. I herded him down towards the other end of the store. "God, Stan, what were you thinking?" I hissed at him. "We're never going to get him to give us answers now… Jesus Christ, dude, what's the matter with you?"

Stan looked down at his shoes in a pathetic display of apology. "Sorry… I didn't think."

Well, that was obvious.

I sighed. "It doesn't help now. Want a candy bar or something? I have some money on me."

"No thanks. I'll get it myself." Stan said glumly. He fished his wallet out of his pocket and dug through it to retrieve a $5.

I instantly felt bad for snapping at him. "Sorry." I muttered, kneeling down to look at the magazine rack. "I didn't mean.."

"No, don't worry about it, Kyle," Stan said firmly, shaking his head. "I was stupid. I didn't think before I spoke. You had every right to yell at me."

I sighed. This was so hard. I hated my life at the moment, hated Cartman, hated Kenny, hated myself, hated the cashier, hated the weather… the list could've gone on. The one thing I didn't hate was standing before me with his hands in his pockets, looking like a lost puppy. How was this going to work when nerves were so tense? And being gay for two weeks sure as hell didn't help the fact that our friendship was strained to the breaking point.

I pulled a magazine out of the rack and leafed through it, trying to keep my mind off of Stan.

"Kyle,"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

I looked up sadly at Stan, and stood up, putting the magazine down into the rack. I looked into the sapphire eyes of my false lover, feeling sadness coursing through my veins. God, how I hated myself. "We have to get through this, Stan." I whispered, pleading with him. "We can't fall out yet. Not when there's so much at stake."

Stan hung his head, breaking eye contact. "I know." He said quietly. "We have to show Cartman. Have to show Kenny. We can do this." He swallowed and looked at me. "Come on… let's go back to my house."

-------

I munched on a Butterfinger while watching Stan beat the shit out of a zombie on the Okama Gamesphere. "Get the ammo box!" I ordered, as the tiny red box flickered before my eyes. Stan's character whirled around and ran over the red box, and 100 shots were added to his ammunition.

The phone rang. I stood up with a sigh, abandoning my candy, and hurried over to the phone. I knew it wasn't my house, but, with Stan being here alone, I was pretty much his roommate until his parents got back. "Hello?" I asked the phone, holding the phone up to my ear with one hand and plugging my other ear with the other hand.

"Kyle? Oh, sorry, I meant to call Stan's house." I heard Kenny's voice reply. Stan let out a yell of agony as his character blew up, and he slammed the controller to the ground. "Wait, is Stan there?" Kenny asked, sounding confused.

"Oh, no, um, I'm at Stan's house," I said, scratching behind my head. "Stan's just playing a videogame. What did you want?"

"Kyle… about what you saw." Kenny's voice said slowly.

Then I remembered.

"You bastards gave Stan an asthma attack!" I snarled, "What the fuck were you guys playing at, running away like that?"

"Oh my god! Is Stan okay?" Kenny asked, concern in his voice. "We didn't mean to… we were at the drugstore looking for stuff to use for the bet…"

"Like what, condoms?" I spat. Stan gave a jolt and looked around at me, his eyes wide and horrified.

"Who is that?" Stan asked, looking confused. "Cartman?"

"Kenny." I glanced around at him.

"No, you retard, condoms? What the fuck…? No, we were looking for knick-knacks that could enhance the gayness."

"Like what?"

"Uh… 'kay… Cartman, bring me the bag." Kenny said, his voice slightly muffled. I heard Cartman's distant reply. "Lesse…" Kenny said. "Umm… we have a few packets of gum that you guys can share, as well as a candy bar for that same reason. We have a male model magazine for you guys…couple other things…"

I sighed, "Okay… at least no condoms."

Kenny laughed. "Geez, you're sick. We told you no sex, didn't we?"

"Yeah."

"Crazy Kyle." Kenny chuckled. "Talk to you tomorrow, Kyle."

"Yeah, see ya." I muttered, and hung up the phone. Stan instantly was at my side.

"What did he say?" Stan asked, cocking his head slightly. "What's this about condoms?"

"Nothing," I said, vaulting over the back of the couch and landing on the cushions. I snatched up the controller of the Gamesphere and began to play. "Just kidding around."

"Better be." Stan said warily, plopping down on the couch beside me. He reclined against the arm of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "God… I am not looking forward to tomorrow."

I glanced up at the clock. 9:23. "Well, you'd better enjoy your last few hours as a straight man, Stanley Marsh, because at exactly 12:00 midnight, we begin our new life as lovers."

"How should we spend our last few precious straight hours?" Stan asked, leaning forward slightly and shutting off the game. "Certainly not playing this game?" He had an evil grin on his face that only told me one thing.

"Y'know…" Stan said quietly, looking playful. "I do know where my dad keeps his porn."

I instantly leapt to my feet, eager for the last naked girl I'd see in two weeks. "Bring on the smut!" I crowed. Stan grabbed my shirtsleeve and yanked me off towards his parent's bedroom. 


	6. Preparation 'H'

Auri's Notes: I had homecoming this week. Been very very busy but still had a chance to write a chapter for you guys. :3

I woke up to someone pounding on the door. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I blinked blearily around dimly lit room, and offered a kick to Stan's back. He let out a groan and sat up.

The door burst open and cold air flooded the room. "SHUT THE GODDAMN DOOR!" Stan bellowed, wrestling out of his sleeping bag and glaring at the room's two new occupants.

Kenny slammed the door shut, while Cartman set about burying our faces in snowballs that he'd brought from outside. I let out a yell of protest as Cartman stuffed icy snow into my face, and kicked out at him. I missed, kicked the coffee table, and let out a howl of pain.

Kenny leaned against the door, laughing his head off. I flipped him the bird and stood up, my hands clenched into fists. "What the fuck, Cartman?" I shrieked, throwing my pillow at him. It hit him in the back of the head, and he grunted angrily.

"We have to get you guys woken up!" Kenny explained. "It's Monday, so we gotta get you guys gay-ed up! G'wan, Stan, get up! It's time to initiate Preperation H!!"

"Um... what?" I asked dully, confused.

"Preperation Homosexual." Kenny supplied, kicking Stan's sleeping bag.

Stan was curled at the bottom of his sleeping bag, yelling swear words. "IT'S FIVE FUCKING THIRTY IN THE MORNING!" He yelled. "WE DON'T HAVE SCHOOL UNTIL EIGHT!!"

"Kyle," Kenny glanced at me. "You might wanna go take a shower. There's popcorn in your hair."

I reached up to feel my rather greasy hair, and came away with a kernel. "Whoops." I mumbled. I reached for my bag and pulled out some clean clothes, before hurrying off to the bathroom.

----

By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, Stan was out of his sleeping bag. He was curled on the couch, glowering at Cartman.

I brushed my hair back with the comb I'd brought along, yawning as I did so. The shower had woken me up, but I was still tired. After all, we were woken 3 hours earlier than what we needed to be. It was now six o'clock, according to the clock upon Stan's wall. But it was still too early. "Shower's all yours, Stan." I said sleepily, flopping down upon the couch next to him and pushing him slightly.

Stan grunted and rose to his feet. He dragged his ass all the way to the bathroom, seeming to be stuck in a permanent snooze.

"Kyle," Cartman turned to me, "I will now give you the same speech I just gahve Stan. Today, you are gay. No questions asked. You will hold hands on the way to the bus stop and sit vehry clohse to each othah on the bus. It would be best if you also gave him a kiss before going to each clahss that you do not have togethah. You also have to tell at least four people that you are gay, and I don't care who it is, so long as it's not a teacher."

It took me a couple seconds to register what he'd said, but I nodded anyways. This was not going to be fun… I could tell. Kenny had bent down and was examining the litter of porno DVDs that were strewn across the floor.

"Hey, these are pretty good!" He said. "I think I have this one at ho…HEY!" Kenny suddenly began wildly picking up the disks and looking at them, front to back. "THESE ARE MINE!!"

"What would Stahn's dahd be doing with your pohrn?" Cartman leaned over his shoulder to look. "That is a tad bit strahnge, don't yah think?"

Kenny glared at the bathroom door, and then flipped Stan off, even though Stan couldn't see. "You bastard, your father stole my porno!" He bellowed. I heard Stan's reply, but couldn't make out the words.

I laughed slightly. "Jeez, Ken, it's not a big deal."

Kenny stared at me for a few seconds, and then strode over to me. He looked at me for a long, long time, and then slapped me across the face.

"OW! Dammit!" Massaging my jaw with both hands, I glared up at Kenny. "What the fuck?"

"Porn is nothing to make light of." Kenny growled, bending down to collect his discs. Cartman smirked and plopped himself down on the couch next to me. I felt it sag slightly underneath his weight, and had to stifle a laugh.

Minutes passed in silence. I eventually got up and made myself a Poptart. I sat at the table, feeling Cartman's eyes one me, while I munched at the chocolate pastry. I heard the shower turn off in the bathroom. After a few minutes, Stan emerged, looking refreshed, but still rather grumpy.

"Morning, sunshine." I chuckled though the Poptart. Stan smirked at me, but said nothing.

Guess who did?

"That's very good, Kyle," Cartman said, clapping his fat hands together once or twice. "Pet names are completely acceptable and welcomed. In fact, I want you, Stan, to call Kyle 'sweetie' at least four times today in our presence. And Kyle, you will call Stan 'babe'."

"No. Fucking. Way." I said slowly, my lip curled.

"Kyle," Cartman sighed. "Do you seriously want me to take away more money?"

"No."

"Then shut the hell up and get with the name-callin'."

I sighed, and stuffed the last of the Poptart into my mouth. Stan was rifling through the cupboard to find himself one. "Kyle, did you eat the last-"

"STAN!" Cartman bawled. "What did Ah just get through tellin' you! PET NAMES!"

Stan flushed crimson. "Okay... um... S-Sweetie, did you eat the last Poptart?"

It took all of my control not to laugh and choke on my Poptart (still in my mouth). I cleared my throat heavily and crumpled up the wrapper of my now eaten pastry. "Yup. Sorry." Cartman glared at me. "Sorry...Babe." I corrected, throwing the wrapper away and feeling myself turn red. "Jesus Christ, I hate you so bad, Cartman."

"Sorry, Jew-boy." Cartman sang. Kenny muttered something that I couldn't hear - his face was muffled by tons of DVD cases and discs.

"Kenny, what are you-?" Stan began, but Kenny interrupted him.

"Your sonnavabitch father has been stealing my porn!" Kenny snapped, his blonde hair barely visible over the pile of DVDs. "I'm taking it back!"

"Hurry up and eat, Stan, we've got to catch the bus in twenty minutes!" Cartman said angrily, pacing back and forth in the living room. "And neither of you are going to buy school lunch today. We have a lunch made for you guys."

"Aww, Cartman!" Stan protested. "I WANT to get a school lunch."

"It had better not be Kosher." I snarled under my breath. I had pretty much given up on my Jewish practices. Sure, I still went to Temple with my parents, but I didn't pay attention or even practiced any religion. I traded people lunches whenever I could to free myself of kosher meals. I was sick of being the local 'Jewish boy'. (Even though Cartman still referred to me as such... maybe out of habit.) I'd decided this shortly after my Bar Mitzvah, where I'd been forced to spew Hebrew in front of about 100 people.

"No, it's not." Kenny piped up, trying and failing to stuff all of his porno into his backpack. "It's a couple turkey sandwiches, along with some other stuff." He reached forward to grab Cartman's own backpack. He pulled the large bag towards him, and unzipped it, stuffing about four discs into the bag.

"Kenneh, let me be totally seriously, okay? If Ah get caught with them things, Kenneh, Ah am going to keell you." Cartman said, watching Stan pour himself a bowl of Cheerios. "Because it will be yer fault that Ah would have detention."

Kenny shrugged. "Gotcha." He said carelessly, zipping up Cartman's backpack and yawning. "Staaaan, hurry up and eat!"

I glanced at Stan, who had stopped pouring his cereal and was now glaring at Kenny. "Shut up." He mumbled, putting the box of cereal back. He leaned over to open up the fridge. "God, this is bad enough that I'm a friggin' fag for two weeks, I don't need you guys harping on me for every little thing!" He began to dump milk over his Cheerios while poking at it with a spoon (held in his other hand).

I sighed and shook my head, running my fingers though my damp hair and allowing a soft groan to filter though my lips. I glanced up at the clock through bleary eyes- fifteen minutes until the bus came. I was starting to get antsy, already my palms were clammy and my heart rate had increased. Nervousness was creeping up on my faster than I could stop it. I didn't want this day to come, I wanted it to be Sunday night still, Stan and I together, enjoying some soft-core porn and eating popcorn.

But no.

Ten more minutes passed. Stan continued to munch quickly on his cereal while pacing back and forth in the kitchen with the bowl in his hands. He did not look happy, in fact, he looked like I felt. His face was rigid and ashen, while his movements were jerky and forced. He suddenly paused by the kitchen sink and put his now empty bowl into the sink. "Okay." He said quietly. "Let's get this thing started."

I sighed and got up, walking over to the door where my shoes lay discarded. I pulled them onto my feet, while Stan knelt down beside me and did the same. Kenny and Cartman had not bothered taking their shoes off (judging by the wet spots that besieged the carpet), so they hovered above us, watching impatiently.

"Stop staring, Fat-boy." I growled up at Cartman, giving him the evil eye from underneath my red hair.

"I'm not fat!" Cartman griped loudly. "I'm BIG BONED! Now hurry up and get your goddamn coat on, let's go!"

I slipped my coat on over my polo shirt and snatched up my backpack from the floor, also grabbing my ushanka, which lay beside it. "Let's go." I said quietly, opening the door. I was met with a rush of icy cold air, and grit my teeth against the callous wind.

-----

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Nice to see you this morning, Ms. Crabtree."

Stan and I headed for our usual spots in the back of the bus, avoiding the shocked stares from the rest of the bus. "Just keep walking," I hissed, as I clung gingerly to his hand. "Just keep walking and don't make eye contact…"

We sat down next to each other with our eyes averted. I glanced up at the rest of the bus. They all turned back to the front of the bus, having been staring at us the entire time. "Goddamn." I muttered, as Stan tentatively coiled an arm around my shoulders. "This is so fucking humiliating!"

"Uh-huh." Stan mumbled, not looking at me. He was looking out the window, watching the trees go by.

"Hey, fellas." A voice crowed from above us. I looked up to see the blonde-haired Butters Stotch leaning over the back of his seat to look at us. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothin'." Stan growled. "Sitting."

"Why do you have your arm around Kyle like that?" Butters asked suspiciously, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you a homosexual?"

Blood rushed to my face. "Yes, Butters, in fact." I said, clearing my throat slightly. "We are in fact, gay."

Butters' eyes went wide. "By golly." He said, awed. "I never pinned you two to be fags." He disappeared over the seat edge. I heard him sniggering, and scowled.

"Well, that's one person we've told." Stan mumbled, rolling his eyes. He pretended to make an invisible check mark in midair, and sighed. "Only…how many people did Cartman say we have to tell?"

"Four people." I said quietly. "Butters counts as one for… um… I guess me, since I'm the one who said it."

"But…" Stan began to protest, but then fell back with a sigh, the fight gone. "Oh, fine… God, you're so picky."

I smirked. "Sorry babe." I said with sarcasm laid thick in my voice. "Looks like you've gotta tell four people still."

A vein twitched in Stan's temple, as he scowled at the back of the seat. It was going to be a very, very long day… 


	7. Monday

Auri's Notes: I did a couple cameos in this chapter, just because I felt like it. Mudvayne is the name of a band that I like, as is Avenged Sevenfold. X3 Kyle's school schedule is my actual freshman schedule, slightly edited. Also, _The Tiger in the Well_ is a book by Phillip _Pull_man, the class in question is taught my Mrs. _Push_man. I do own the book, by the way, but haven't read it fully. XDDD

I own none of these cameo appearances by bands and stuff. I do own my school schedule, however. -shifty eyes-

THIS IS THE LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR! XD A personal record for me of 9 pages on Microsoft Word Processor. XDDD

-------

Stan's fingers and mine intertwined as we made our way towards the school doors, with Cartman and Kenny bringing up the rear and looking shifty. Cartman kept craning his neck to check to see if we were still holding hands.

"I hate you so bad, Cartman." I murmured, glaring at his fat neck. He looked back at me and grinned, but said nothing. "I seriously hate you." I added.

Stan nudged me with his elbow as best he could with our fingers twisted around each other. I glanced up at him, confused. With his other hand, he made a kind of offhand gesture to his right. I leaned forward slightly to look at where he was pointing. People were staring at us, wide-eyed, edging behind their friends to spy on us while half-hidden. I frowned at them, and then glanced back at Stan.

"It's to be expected." I said quietly, swallowing hard and squeezing his hand slightly. I felt him tense, and felt a diminutive tremor of guilt that I couldn't explain. "It's not something they see everyday."

The school bell rang just as we pushed our way through the doors. Cartman and Kenny had disappeared into the crowd, leaving us to head to our lockers. We parted company at a hallway intersection, with a small, "See ya," muttered hurriedly under our breaths. I hurried off to my locker. Hopefully, Kenny and Cartman hadn't seen the absence of a kiss.

Gyrating the combination lock furiously, I kept my eyes on my locker and not on the rest of the school who seemed intent on staring at us the entire Goddamn day. I grabbed my Social Studies book from my locker, as well as my 5-subject notebook. With a sigh, I slammed my locker shut and headed to class.

------

"Your homework for tonight is to answer the questions on pages 98-99. Due at the beginning of class tomorrow." Mrs. Mudvayne squawked, smacking her yardstick on the board multiple times. "You may pack up your things, the bell's about to r-"

The low tone of the bell sounded through the school. Instantly, the class scampered to their feet and headed for the door, me being jostled along behind them. "Christ!" I spat, as I was nearly shoved to the ground. I hated my class, just for this reason. Everybody was so fucking pushy!

Next, I had English 11. This, sadly, was a class that I also had with Stan… and Cartman.

At my locker, I replied the Social Studies book with one for English, as well as a small version of the book entitled _The Tiger in the Well_.

I glanced over my shoulder at the mass of students, hoping to see Stan. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Stan's Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt disappearing into the crowd. "Stan!" I called, fighting my way through the sea of people. "STAN!"

He looked back, his brow furrowed under his exposed black hair. He looked around for a couple seconds, than spotted me. He pressed himself against the wall, waiting for me to catch up to him.

"Stan!" I said breathlessly, grasping hold of his shirtsleeve. "There you are! Come on, we're going to be late for English if we don't hurry up…"

"Yeah." Stan said with a short nod. "God, is it just me, or is this day dragging on way longer than it should be dragging on?"

"Beats me." I shrugged, as Stan put an unused arm around me. I stumbled slightly. "Jesus Christ!" I yelped, as I nearly dropped my books. "Hard to walk like that."

"Sorry." Stan glanced down at me, and then paused, waiting for me to steady my textbook. "But I figured I should, in case Cartman's fat ass is lurking around here somewhere."

I smirked. "Good idea." I said grimly, as he put his arm around me again and steered me towards Mrs. Pushman's class.

We took our places at our table in the back of the class. Stan was aimlessly sifting through his copy of _The Tiger in the Well_, while I doodled on the corner of my notebook. "You think Cartman noticed that we didn't… uh… kiss?" He queried, glancing at me from his book.

"Let's hope not. Or else he'd make us do it in front of tons of people." I grunted, glancing up to see a green shirt moving towards us. "Shut up, Fattie's arrived."

Cartman slammed down his book in front of us, and sat down heavily next to Stan, growling something about Chemistry. He didn't look at us, but glared steadily at his notebook.

"Problems, Dough-boy?" I queried, cocking my head slightly. "You don't seem to be your usual chipper self."

"Is it that obvious?" Cartman barked. "It's ahll Mr. Walker's fault. He gahve meh a lunch detention! Just for writing in my Chemistrah textbook!"

"Serves you right." Stan smirked, his nose buried into The Tiger in the Well. "Maybe it'll teach you not to deface school property."

Cartman didn't reply. The rest of the class filed in, chatting among themselves loudly with bouts of laughter slipping in between the myriad of talk. I glanced at Stan a couple more times, and then finally slid my gaze towards Cartman. He was staring at the chalkboard with his face blank and expressionless. Though I couldn't help noticing that a vein was twitching in his temple. Fighting the urge to laugh out loud, I flipped open my copy of _The Tiger in the Well_ and skimmed through a chapter I'd previously read.

"I bet we have to do a chapter summary on this next one," I heard Stan growl beside me. "I think this is one of the longer ones."

"Which chapter?" I asked, skimming through the table of contents. "I'm on chapter 20." I glanced over at Stan's open book.

"Oh, I'm behind you." Stan sighed. "Never mind. I was talking about chapter 16. How many chapter summaries are there that we have to do between chapters 16 and 20?"

I furrowed my brow slightly, thinking. Mrs. Pushman had not been kind this final semester in the school year. We had to read the long book while doing summaries of various chapters that she selected for us. Thank God it was a self-paced book. "I think... chapters 18 and 19." I affirmed, glancing back at

"Hey, guys, you know what chapter I like best?" Cartman spoke up. I rolled my eyes, afraid to know the answer.

"What, Cartman, what is your favorite chapter?" I sneered, peering up over my book.

"I like chapter 23." Cartman said proudly. "It's entitled, 'No Juwes'." He bowed his head in a fit of laughter.

"Goddammit, Cartman, there's no chapter in there called 'No Juwes'." I scoffed, slamming my book down on the table and grabbing his book from his fat hands.

"Yeah-huh! Chaptah 23 is so called 'No Juwes'! I'm being seriously, Kyle." He insisted, wrinkling his pug nose at me. I had a strong urge to punch him in the ugly face, but decided against it and flipped through the book to chapter 23.

He was right.

"What the fuck?" I spat incredulously, skimming through the chapter. "What the..." I repeated, shaking my head. "Goddammit..." I threw the book back at Cartman, who laughed derisively and caught the book in his fat hands.

"Told yah, you goddamn Jew." He said happily, smugly. He grinned at me through the rolls of fat on his face, and I sighed. "See, you're not always right, Jewboy." He was trying to break me, I knew it. The name-calling, bragging, whatever... he was trying to get me into a temper. A small voice in the back of the head told me to be submissive, quiet. He was the master here, and he could always take away everything I'd already worked for. The money was more important than the shattering of my frail temper.

Stan sighed audibly beside me. Cartman cocked an eyebrow at me and dipped his head in a small nod. I awkwardly moved my chair closer to Stan's own chair until they were touching. Stan glanced up at me curiously and furrowed his brow. I made an exaggerated eye movement towards Cartman, and Stan nodded his head about a fraction in each direction - up and down. I tremulously leaned up against his shoulders. The black fabric of his t-shirt was pressing up against my face, a small fold in the fabric blocking part of my vision. I laid one hand upon Stan's thigh, my knuckles brushing against his hip. The touch was so subtle, so small, it was like stroking a feather against the denim of his jeans. However insignificant the touch was, I felt Stan's body tense beside me, stiff and resistant.

Cartman cleared his throat, making us both look up curiously. I tried to project as much hatred into my gaze as I could. If it worked, Cartman wasn't paying attention to my eyes. He did, however, smirk slightly and nod, as though giving his approval.

I used my free hand to flip him the bird. He scowled at me and looked at his book again. I glanced at Stan, who was still looking uncomfortable. He had eased up slightly, and now it no longer felt like his shoulder was a brick covered in a cotton t-shirt. "Christ, Stan, your shoulders are like rocks." I voiced, shifting slightly. "Can't you wear shoulder pads or something?" I cracked, poking him in the side, between his waist and his ribs, a very sensitive spot.

Stan jumped and flinched as I poked him, and I jumped backwards to avoid falling over. I poked Stan again, and he yelped, shielding himself from me by wrapping his arms around his middle and hoisting one leg partially in the air to kick out at me. I grinned and grabbed his foot, knowing that the results of this conflict wasn't going to end up good. With a final desperate poke at Stan's forehead, we both tipped over off of our chairs with a loud crash.

The room detonated with laughter, everyone leaning back in their chairs to get a good look at what had happened. The tall, handsome woman in front of the class crossed her arms over her ballooned chest, and tossed back her cherry-red hair. "Boys," She said huskily. "I would appreciate it if you did not rough-house in my class, as you are in great danger of earning yourself a lunch detention."

Stan and I scrambled back into our chairs, blushing furiously. "Sorry, Mrs. Pushman." Stan said hurriedly, picking up his book and opening it to a random page. "It was an accident."

"Won't happen again." I offered, clearing my throat slightly and opening my book as well.

"Good." Mrs. Pushman said, nodding her head slightly. "Because you wouldn't want to spend detention with me, would you?"

_Yes, I would, thank you, _I thought with a small smirk, watching as Mrs. Pushman turned around to write something on the chalkboard. "Now, you should all be at around chapters 15 or 16, but I know that some of you have exceeded my expectations," Her gaze lingered on me for a few seconds, and I grinned triumphantly to myself. "And surpassed even chapter 18."

"I expect you to get through at least chapter 17 today." Mrs. Pushman continued, as she scrawled chapter titles across the board in loopy writing. _Chapter Summaries: Chapter 16; Playing with Blocks, Chapter 18; The Order of Sanctissima Sophia, Chapter 19; Rebecca's Story_. "If you get further, these are the chapters on which you must do summaries on. Please begin."

I opened my book to the page I was on and raised my hand, not looking up. Mrs. Pushman clicked over to me, and bent down to peer at me in the face. "Yes, Kyle?"

"I'm on chapter twenty. Do I have to summarize that one, too?" I asked, my eyes remaining for a moment on her chest and then following up towards her face.

"No," She said. "Just do chapter twenty two and twenty th-" She trailed off, and bit her lip. "Twenty four."

"It's because I'm a Jew, isn't it?" I asked her in a dull whisper, cracking a grin. "I'll do chapter twenty three, don't worry."

Mrs. Pushman still looked nervous. "Are you sure?" She asked anxiously. "I don't want to offend you or anything."

"Nah, it's fine." I amended with a shake of the head. "I don't care."

Mrs. Pushman nodded. "Okay…if you're sure…" She backed away, towards her desk, and sat down at her computer. The sound of her polished fingernails clattering away on the keyboard sounded in the quiet room.

I heard a loud clapping sound to my left, and looked around to see Cartman opening up his trapper-keeper. He removed a new sheet of paper from the binder and set it down upon the table. He then proceeded to write down something on it, glancing every now and then at the teacher.

I ignored this and turned to my book. I flipped to the correct chapter and picked up where I left off.

_'…she left silently and went to the mission. She reached it as a nearby church clock struck two. Harriet resented being taken out of the warm bed to go to the lavatory, and grumbled and screwed up her face as she always did, and it was all so dear and familiar that when Sally cried herself to sleep, it wasn't for apprehension about Goldberg or the fear of the mysterious H. Lee; it was for love of her child. The fear and apprehension came later, in her-'_

A note landed inches from my notebook. I glanced at the others at my table. Stan was writing down a summary in his notebook, and Cartman was reading. I gingerly picked up the note and unfolded it, the sound making a pronounced noise in the room. A couple people looked around at me as the paper crinkled, but didn't think much of it and turned back to their books.

'Christ, fag, I assumed that you'd WANT to kiss Stan this morning. I did in fact see you guys not kissing and I realize now what has to be done. I will be monitoring you guys between classes. For every kiss I do not see, there will be a ten dollar deduction from your bet earnings. I won't take any money off this time, so consider this a warning. But I will be watching you, Jewboy, so be on your toes.'

I glanced at Cartman again. He was still reading. I took out my pencil and wrote hastily back to him, my tongue in my teeth.

'I think you're just fucking crazy. If I would have wanted to kiss Stan, I would have. And how the hell can you watch us during EVERY class transferal? There's no way you'd pull it off.'

I folded the note as quietly as I could and flicked it back at Cartman. I then buried my face in my book and did not look at him again.

_'-dreams._

_St. Dionis Backchurch was one of Christopher Wren's churches: tall, dark, and dignified, and empty at nine the following morning. Sally brought Harriet with her, and they sat in a pew near the back and read the inscription on the nearest tombs. _

_Only five minutes after they'd sat down, the church door opened and in came a short, shabby figure who removed his hat and then limped briskly to her pew. _

_"Miss Lockhart, I'm Wentworth. This is Harriet? Good morning, Harriet. Uncommon number of policemen-'_

The note landed back in front of me. I unfolded it and read Cartman's untidy chicken scratch.

'I have my ways, Kyle. I have spies. They'll know what happens.'

Christ! So Cartman had told people about this already! I nudged Stan sharply in the ribs. He gasped harshly at the sudden pain, and another couple people looked around. I pretended to be reading my book, as did Stan. The onlookers eventually turned back to their books. I nudged Stan again and he looked around at me, frowning. I held the note out to him. I followed his eyes as they skimmed over the pages, and watched as his eyes got bigger in horror.

He himself scribbled something on the sheet of paper and passed it to me.

'Oh, fuck. This can't be good. Cartman has people watching us? I wonder who…'

I shrugged and scribbled back.

'You got me there. I have no fucking idea what's going on in that sick little mind of his, but I don't like it. Maybe we should be careful anyway. I bet Cartman has people watching us that we don't even know. Freshman, even. I bet he would blow more than one person in order to get his information.'

Passed the note to Stan. I watched as a grin spread over his lips, his eyes sliding back and forth across the paper. He smirked and began to write back. He silently slid the paper over the table towards me, and I craned my neck to read it.

'Hehehe, I know. Maybe people from our own grade… I know Kenny's gonna be watching us, too… fatass probably suckered Butters to do something, too. Any he probably paid off Craig or Clyde or Tweek or somebody… Christ, we are so screwed. I guess it's time to pucker up, sweetheart.'

Sweetheart? I furrowed my brow and shot him a strange look, before beginning to write back. I had gotten down about five words down when the paper was caught up in a red-fingernail polished claw. I didn't even look up as Mrs. Pushman began to read the note silently. She then picked up my pencil and wrote something on it, then pushed the paper towards us and walked back to her desk.

Both Stan and I leaned forward to look at the paper.

'LUNCH DETENTION TOMORROW.'

----------

"Just don't look at anybody and do it." Stan said hurriedly, as I craned my neck to peck him on the cheek. A couple people stared avidly, but I ignored them and hurried off to my next class. I glanced back at Stan, who was pushing his way through a crowd of freshmen and scowling.

Calculus passed in silence. I didn't have that class with any of my friends, except Butters, but he sat all the way across the room. Stan, Cartman, Kenny, Tweek, Craig… all of them had Trigonometry instead. Butters and I, being especially good at math, were pushed into the advanced Calc. class. I never had a chance to ask Butters if he was working for Cartman or not. He hurried away quickly after class, possibly to keep an eye out for me and Stan.

I heaved my Calc. book up into my arms and followed the flow of seniors out of the classroom, thanking Jesus that I had lunch next.

After shoving my books into my locker, I whirled around to face an unexpected appearance of Stan, with Kenny standing slightly behind him and holding a brown paper bag. "Oh!" I jumped slightly to find his face inches from mine. "Hey Sta-"

He kissed me quickly on the lips before I could get another word out. I made a soft, muffled noise in my throat before grabbing hold of his hand. "Stan," Kenny poked him, "Stan. Kissing is required only between classes. It's lunch."

Stan instantly let go of my mouth. "Huh?" He said, surprised. "Oh… um… whoops." He smirked sheepishly.

I licked my lips, tasting Stan still lingering on them. It tasted vaguely of Zoop cola, which was odd, because the only time we'd drank the stuff was last night. "Stan, did you brush your teeth this morning?" I asked, sucking at my teeth with my tongue and wiping my mouth with my free hand.

"Yes. Why, is my breath bad?" Stan asked, furrowing his brow slightly and adjusting his hand in mine slightly.

"No… it's just…" I trailed off, slightly confused. "Um.. Never mind…"

Kenny smirked. "Kyle likes the way you taste, Stan." He offered with a laugh. I punched the blonde boy in the arm, and he staggered a couple steps away, still laughing. "Just kiddin', dude!" He protested, hands up to shield himself.

Stan laughed and grinned. "I'm honored, sweetheart." He ruffled my curly locks, which made me shudder slightly. I'd never liked people messing with my hair, but I'd decided that Stan was the only exception.

Changing the subject, I glanced at the paper bag in Kenny's hand. "What's that for, dude?" I asked, nodding towards it.

"Your lunch." He said sneakily, shaking the bag slightly.

"And what, may I ask, does it consist of?" Stan asked, ignoring two freshman girls who were giggling uncontrollably at the sight of us. "Nothing that will get us a further detention?"

"No!" Kenny said, shaking his head hurriedly. "You'll find out what it is when we get to lunch… Jesus Christ, you're nosy."

"Where's fatass, by the way?" I asked.

"He's in detention, remember?" Stan said, glancing at me. "Mr. Walker gave him one."

"Oh, that's right. Thank God Mrs. Pushman gave us a break!" I said, smirking. Kenny sighed and muttered something about Fundamental English.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, dude," I offered, nudging Kenny in the shoulder.

"Kyle," Kenny turned to me, his brown eyes sad and his posture slumped. "If I even pass this year, I am going to graduate high school three years after you do. And that only counts if I pass English 10, 11, and 12. I can't graduate if I don't pass. Kyle, I've been in freshman English for three years."

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. "It's okay, Ken." Stan said quietly, stopping him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "You'll pass."

Kenny closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "If I pass this year, it will be a miracle." He said quietly. He heaved himself away from Stan and continued down the hallway, with Stan and I following quietly behind.

I glanced at Stan, and he returned the look with pain in his eyes. I faintly squeezed his hand, and he returned it gently. Poor Kenny. He was passing all of his classes BUT English. It was definitely sad. And now we were taking nearly all of his money.

"Ken," Stan said quietly. "Kenny, I-"

"Just drop the subject, Stan." Kenny glanced back at us, his eyes sad. "Please."

Stan fell silent, looking down at the floor.

The lunchroom was buzzing with the usual talk of people, the lunch line winding through the room and filtering out into the hallway. Kenny motioned us towards a table near the back. We sat down and finally broke apart, as we sat across from each other, both of us looking uneasily at Kenny.

"Okay," Kenny said, extracting a bottle of Zoop from inside the bag. "Loving means sharing. Everything. Sharing your lunch with each other is a very cute thing to do, also very gay if you're a dude." He passed the Zoop to me. "Don't bother to try to not backwash in it, either, because it's better if you do."

I opened up the cola with a loud HISSST, and took a drink. I passed it to Stan, who also gulped down a couple swallows.

"I dunno if this counts as really gay, Ken," I objected, slightly confused. "We've been sharing drinks and stuff since we were like.. Twelve."

"Well this is different," Kenny said, a mischievous look upon his pale face. "Oh, by the way, how many people know that you're gay now?"

"Two," Stan answered. "Kyle told Butters, and Mrs. Pushman found out by accident." I cringed at the thought, but didn't say anything except to take another drink of the cola.

"Christ," Kenny shook his head. "You guys need to speed this up…"

--------------Cartman's POV

Detention always sucked balls. But today's detention was perfectly fine with me, because dumbass Mr. Walker wasn't even looking at us. He was typing away at his computer with his headphones on.

Craig, Tweek, and I were left in the room, the only ones who'd gained a lunch detention for the day.

Tweek was doing his usual thing, twitching and muttering something about coffee, while Craig was muttering swear words to Mr. Walker under his breath. Trying to keep my face innocent, I tore a sheet of paper from my notebook and scribbled down upon it.

'Hey, Tweek, want to see something really cool? It'll make you laugh, trust me.'

I folded the note up three times and tossed it to Tweek. He jumped and nearly fell out of his chair at the sight of the note that had suddenly appeared before him. He glanced around nervously, and opened the note. I watched his eyes flick through the message as quick as lightning. He picked up his pen and scribbled something on the paper. He folded the note and handed it back to me. I unfolded it and read eagerly.

'I could use a laugh.'

I grinned and glanced at him. He was watching me, looking confused. One eye was twitching, with always had bugged the shit out of me. I opened my folder again and extracted three photos of Stan and Kyle together. I offered them to Tweek, and he took them eagerly.

I scribbled down on the note as well.

'Show them to Craig as well.'

I handed the note to him. His face was blotchily red, and one hand was over his mouth and the other arm curled around his middle. It was hard to see his facial expression, but he was doubled over slightly in what I assumed to be a fit of silent laughter. From what I could see through his messy blonde hair, his eyes were closed tight.

I flashed him a knowing look. He glanced up at me, his eyes streaming with tears of laughter, and grinned at me, handing off the photos to Craig, who took them interestedly.

Tweek buried his head in his hands, still shaking with laughter. It took him a minute or two to recover, but when he did, Craig had raised his hand. "Mr. Walker!" He called out, cocking his head slightly. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Mr. Walker nodded, "Sure, Craig." He waved Craig away and went back to his computer.

Craig stood up and nearly ran to the door. He fumbled with the doorknob for a couple seconds, managed to open it, and then disappeared out the door.

I heard his hysterical laughter echoing in the hallway, seeping through the door. Oh, sweet, sweet torture. Kyle and Stan were definitely going to regret taking my money away. I'd be paid back before long, but never in material goods, oh no. I was going to be repaid… with revenge.


	8. Artistic Violence

Auri's Notes: ACK, HUGE DELAY ON THIS CHAPTER!! So sorry, peeps. Would've been here sooner, but some things came up... Anyway, this chapter begins from Kyle's point of view again. Another note: yes, I am aware that what happens to Clyde in this chapter is dangerously similar to what happens in the story **Faith, by Zakuyoe **(great story, READ IT). I asked Zakuyoe's permission before I did this chapter, so please do not think I copied. :3

-------------------------

I passed the candy bar to Stan, who took a bite of it and handed it back to me. We leaned over the magazine that Kenny had brought for us, pretending to look interested. "Jesus, look at that guy's pecs!" I mused, pointing to the picture of the blonde man modeling Speedos. "I wish I was toned like that…"

Stan laughed. "Very hot. You'd look good with some muscle." He poked me in the chest. It didn't hurt, but I groaned exaggeratedly and clutched my chest. I then grinned and nudged him.

"Thanks, Stan," I rolled my eyes, "As if you're not muscular enough…"

Stan flexed an arm. "Yeah, check out these guns!"

I lolled my tongue out of my mouth, a glazed look in my eye. "Oooh, sexy man!" I grinned, then broke into a fit of laughter. Kenny watched, grinning stupidly and munching on a turkey sandwich.

"Put them things away, Stan, I'm apparently not the only one who's getting horny." Kenny cracked, running a hand through his blonde hair.

Whosawha? I didn't get the joke at first, but when Stan doubled up with a fit of hysterical laughter, I understood. I sniggered quietly, taking a bite of the candy bar and grinning lopsidedly at Kenny. "Asshole…" I laughed, shaking my head. "That means you're turned on, too?" I asked him, pulling the Zoop towards me and opening it.

"Oh yeah, Stan's got some definite appeal." Kenny nearly gagged on his sandwich from laughing so hard. "He's haaaawwt."

I was glad I had waited to take a drink, because if I surely had been taking a sip at that moment, it would have definitely sprayed all over the table.

"Don't be moving in on my man," I defended, elbowing Stan in the ribs. He yelped and leaned away from me. "I claimed him already."

"Oh, fine, I'll just settle for this guy." Kenny tapped on the well-muscled male model in the magazine. "He's sexier."

"Whatever, dude," I grinned, shaking my head.

"S-stop, guys, you're going to m-make me piss myself laughing!" Stan gasped out, both hands coiled around his stomach in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "I'm serious!"

Kenny and I grinned at each other. "Gotcha, babe." I said quietly, putting a hand on his neck. _Christ, is it just me, or am I enjoying this WAY too much…? _ "We'll be nice, don't worry."

Right on cue, Kenny piped up with, "I won't."

---------

After lunch, I had Independent Art class. I had this class with Stan, so I didn't receive a kiss from him. (Thank God..?) Clyde was in this class, too, but he was the only other 11th grader.

This was an easy class. Fun, too. We could sit and talk and joke around and do whatever we wanted by means of art.

The teacher, Mrs. Klein, was nowhere in sight. She often made trips from the high school to the middle school, where she taught both art and photography, during class. This is where she was today. Stan and I were crouched by the pottery wheel, hands caked with chocolate-milk colored clay and our clothes splattered with it as well. Both of us were manipulating the clay into a pot, working to get an even thickness around it's lip, as the wheel spun rapidly before us and spattering us with even more clay than was needed.

I glanced up at Stan. His face was contorted into one of concentration, as he ran a hand up the edge of the clay. I was working on the base, fingertips kneading into the soggy brown clay to form an intricate swirled pattern.

"This is much harder than it looks," I growled, closing my eyes against a spray of clay droplets. "Augh! Dammit!"

Stan laughed. His hands worked down the clay, the side of his hand brushing against my fingertips. I glanced up at Clyde, who was a few feet away at an art table, a charcoal pencil in his hand and his face screwed up in concentration. I inched my fingers towards Stan's, and put my hand over his, scooting my body closer to his own.

"Dude-"

"Stan," I hissed, jerking my head towards Clyde. "Cartman's got people watching us… remember?"

"Oh…" Stan nodded, "Gotcha."

"I hate pots." I sighed, narrowing my eyes at the lump of clay. "How deep is it?"

Stan bent his neck to peer into the half-formed pot. "About four inches. We should try for at least six."

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding my head. I heard Clyde growl with frustration, and glanced up. He was sketching furiously on the paper, frowning. "Problems, Clyde?" I called over to him, grinning.

He wheeled around on his swiveling chair to face me, brown hair ruffled. A streak of charcoal ran down his face from where he'd apparently rested his forehead in his charcoal-dusted hand. He nodded weakly, "Yeah," He said with an exasperated sigh. "I can't get the focal point of this drawing right. It's supposed to be the eyes, but…I can't seem to get them the right shape…Goddammit…"

"Try holding a mirror to your own eyes and drawing what you see there." Stan suggested, working his fingers into mine.

Clyde noticed the subtle movement from Stan's fingers, and directed his gaze towards our tangled fingers. "What the hell?" He laughed, "I didn't know you guys were _that _friendly towards each other."

Stan spoke up before I could. "Oh, you didn't now?"

"Know what?" Clyde asked, looking confused.

"Kyle's my lover." Stan said, looking perfectly innocent.

Clyde looked confused for a minute, and then burst out laughing. "Nice, guys, real nice…" He shook his head, and scratched his head. "You nearly had me going there…"

I sighed, and elevated an eyebrow. "We're serious, Clyde."

Clyde smirked. "Prove it, then," He said challengingly. "Prove it that you guys are gay with each other." He folded his arms, looking skeptical.

Stan sighed this time and glanced at me. I flashed him an 'I told you so' kind of look and reached up to meet his lips. My mouth hurt slightly from the pressure of our skulls rammed against each other, but I pretended to enjoy it by emitting a soft groaning noise.

Clyde's eyes flew open wide, and he unfolded his arms instantly, looking shocked. "Whoa, okay, okay, you guys can stop!" He put up his blackened hands in a defensive stance, laughing slightly.

Stan and I broke apart. I twisted my neck around to wipe my mouth on my shoulder, and licked my lips. There was that taste again. This time it tasted more like the chocolate of the candy bar than the Zoop we'd had at lunch.

"Told ya," Stan said with a smirk, and turned back to the pot. "Never doubt a gay man."

Clyde smirked. "Wow. I never would have thought… but then again, it makes sense." He said, turning back towards his drawing.

"What does?" I said slowly, frowning.

"It makes sense that you guys would be gay together… I mean, you guys have been best friends since, what, first, second grade?"

"Kindergarten." Stan corrected darkly, glaring up at Clyde.

"Yeah, whatever," Clyde said carelessly, shrugging. "So, I figure that, well, since you guys have been friends for so long, why SHOULDN'T you be better 'friends'…" He eyed us silently for a moment. I felt myself reddening slowly. Stan's face was already the ruddy color of a beet. "So it's not that surprising, to tell you the truth…" Clyde finished with another shrug.

"What prejudice do you-" I began angrily.

"But then again," Clyde started. "It's surprising, as well. I mean, Stan, you've always been the school's token football star stud-muffin, you've had Wendy as your wench for so long! And Kyle, you've the adorable smart guy that girls always secretly like but are afraid to tell their friends that they like you because they're afraid to get ripped on. Bebe's told me that she liked you before you went out with Rebecca for God knows how long…" Clyde trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm pretty surprised at you both…"

Stan stood up, angrily, red-faced with his eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Shut up, Clyde," He said quietly. I hurriedly shut off the pottery wheel, save we get into trouble for splattering clay everywhere. I then stood up as well, fists clenched so hard that I felt my fingernails biting into my palms.

"Make me." Clyde said in just a dangerous of voice. "Go on. I'm not afraid of you."

Stan strode towards Clyde in three short steps, and within a matter of seconds was face to face with the brown-haired boy. "Give me a reason." Stan snarled. I stood slightly behind him, glaring at Clyde. He didn't notice me, his cool face fixed on Stan.

"I already said… I'm not afraid of you, you _faggot._" Clyde growled.

Before I knew what was happening, Stan had Clyde's shirt front grasped in his clay-smeared fist, and Stan had slammed his fist against Clyde's face. I yelped and stepped forward, grabbing the snarling Stan by the waist and heaving him away from Clyde, who had his hands over his right eye and was gritting his teeth together in pain, his face crimson.

It took all my strength to keep Stan from leaping on Clyde again. He stained against me, but I locked my arms together to keep him from going anywhere. "LET ME GO, KYLE!" He yelled, kicking his foot backwards into my legs. His elbows dug into my ribs as he struggled to get free. I grimaced in pain and shook my head , keeping Stan as close to me as possible. "KYLE!"

"STAN, CALM DOWN, DAMMIT!" I bellowed in his ear, as another kick from Stan nearly made my knees buckle. "AGH! STAN, KNOCK IT OFF!"

Clyde backed away, looking nervous. "I wasn't being serious!!" He said defensively, one hand still pressed over his eye. "I wasn't-" He trailed off, letting out a small cry of pain and putting his other hand over his eye as well.

"LIKE HELL YOU WEREN'T!" I snapped, letting out another yell of pain as Stan elbowed me in the ribs. "STAN, STOP, YOU'RE HURTING _ME_, DUDE!"

Stan's writhing motion stopped, and he stood motionless as I clung to him. He was breathing heavily, his body tense and ready. My entire body hurt from keeping hold of the raging teen. I did not cease my hold on him, fearful that he would jump on Clyde again as soon as I let go.

Stan turned around to look at me. "Sorry." He said hoarsely. I loosened my grip on him slightly, and turned to Clyde. Stan did as well, except that he clenched his fists when he made eye contact with Clyde. "Still not scared of me, Clyde?"

The room was completely silent. The rest of the classroom had gone still, frozen in their places to stare and watch the brisk skirmish that had ensued.

Clyde lowered his hand finally, trembling, and I felt Stan tense, and he took a step back. I felt my stomach clench. Clyde's eye was completely blood red, except for the pupil that was dilated slightly and the iris which looked bloodshot. A thin trickle of red-stained tears were running down Clyde's cheek. A ring of purple ran around his entire eye.

I felt very sick. Stan's breathing increased drastically, and he took another step back. I released my hold on him completely, and put a hand to my forehead, feeling dizzy.

I heard someone in the class whisper, "Jesus Christ!"

Clyde looked at his hand, which was stained with the reddish fluid. He made several choking sounds, looked around frantically, and then ran from the room. I heard him crying out in fear as he dashed down the hallway.

The entire class turned to Stan and I, wide-eyed and scared.

"Stan…" I said in a strangled voice, "We should go… now…"

Stan didn't move. He stood there, horrified, with his eyes wide.

"STAN!" I cried hysterically, grabbing him by the shoulder. "NOW!" I took his other shoulder and began to steer him out of the room.

The minute that we left the room, Stan staggered towards the double doors that led outside. The doors were supposed to be used for fire exits, but they were mainly used for students to step outside for a moment if they were using fixative or spray paint.

Stan collapsed to his knees as soon as he was outside in the chill air and was profusely sick. I edged around behind him to stand outside next to him, watching him retch. I began to pace back and forth recklessly, my heart racing inside of me.

"This is BAD, Stan." I ejected. "I mean BAD!! Do you have any idea how much trouble we're going to get into?!"

"Not you," Stan said faintly. "Me."

"No, man, we're this together, I-"

"ME." Stan said sharply, before being overcome by another wave of sickness. I busied myself by wiping clay onto my pants. It was already mostly dried, but I just wanted to make sure that none of it got in places it shouldn't.

Stan's face was red and his eyes were streaming. He coughed, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Christ…" He mumbled, finally standing up. He swayed, and I steadied him carefully, putting an arm around him. "Oh, God…" He twisted his arms around his stomach and winced. He didn't bother to wipe the tears that were flowing steadily down his face. He reached up with one hand to cover his eyes, and his body began to shudder with desperate sobs. "Oh, God, Kyle, what did I do!?"

"Come on, Stan, we have to get to the nurse's office… that's probably where Clyde is." I said quietly, pushing open the door and steering Stan inside. I glanced at the art room door. Several of the other students were gathered there, looking out into the hallway and through the glass in the doors to watch us. I frowned at them and herded a howling Stan past them. "Get the hell back into the classroom." I barked at them after we'd passed. "Go on. Get to work."

I didn't look back to see if they were still watching, but I heard the door shut rather quickly.

---------

I pounded on the nurse's office door, still supporting Stan with one arm. He was clinging desperately to me, his sobs quieter now but more frequent.

"KYLE!" Came a sudden voice from down the hall. I looked around wildly, and the nurse's office opened at the same second. I looked from Nurse Doebel to Kenny, who was running down the hallway towards me.

"Hold on, Kenny," I yelled, and turned towards the frizzy-haired Nurse Doebel. "Nurse Doebel, Stan got sick, he-"

"I know what happened," Snapped the nurse, pulling Stan inside. "Clyde's in here already with a broken blood vessel, he told me everything! You'd better stay out here for now!" And with that, the bitch slammed the door in my face and leaving me standing there.

Kenny caught up with me, and stood by me, panting. "Oh my God.." He breathed. "Kyle, some sophomore told me that something had happened, I was walking by the art hallway and he yelled out at me to go and find a teacher or something…" He paused, gasping for air. "I've been running all over the school for you guys… I guess I don't need a teacher now, since the nurse has 'em…" He leaned against the wall. "Kyle," He glanced up at me. "What happened?"

I sank down to the floor, leaning up against the wall like Kenny was. I carefully explained everything that happened, my voice dull and toneless. I wanted out of here, out of the school. Out of Park County.

After I had stopped talking, Kenny was sitting down as well, dumbstruck. "He… wha…" He began spitting out random words that made no sense together in a sentence. "Stan actually PUNCHED Clyde?" He asked, cocking his head. "But I thought you guys were friends! Stan, you, and Clyde! I thought you guys were all cool with each other and stuff!"

"That's what I thought too." I said sadly, resting my head on my knees. I curled one arm around my legs and pulled them closer to my chest, but a sharp pain in them made me stop and wince. Out of curiosity, I rolled up my pant leg and exposed black and blue bruises on my calves.

Kenny arched his neck to get a better look. "Woah! Did CLYDE do that?" I gingerly touched a bruise, and grimaced, shaking my head.

"No…" I said quietly. "Stan did… he was trying to make me let him go…" I pulled my pant leg back down over my shoes and sighed. "He apologized for it, though, before he started freaking out and puking all over the place…"

Kenny laughed slightly. I cast him a sharp look, and he flinched. "Sorry," He muttered softly. "Just the way you said it…kinda funny…" He shrugged. "Sorry." He repeated.

"No, it's fine…" I said quietly, my words muffled by the denim pressed against my mouth. The pressure reminded me of how Stan and I had shared that last kiss together. It hurt, but it was a good kind of ache. It was warm and intense, like…fire. Stan really WAS a good kisser… maybe that's why Wendy had liked him so much. I guess he really knew how to turn pain into pleasure. How masochistic that sounded… it was exciting, though, the fact that Stan would be doing that to _me, _not Wendy. Rebecca had been _my_ first girlfriend, she'd finally decided to go out with me in the 5th grade and we'd been close until the 7th grade. (She dumped me.) She had taught me how to kiss properly without crushing her skull. Stan didn't seem like the kind of guy who needed to be taught that sort of thing. It was just a natural born talent for him, I guess. Whatever it was, I was jealous of it.

"Hellooo, Kyle?" Kenny waved a hand in front of my face. I jumped slightly, and glanced at Kenny. His face was distorted into one of confusion and anxiety. "Dude, are you ignoring me or what?"

"No… um… sorry, Ken, just thinking…" I said quietly, frowning slightly. "What did you say?"

"I asked you why Stan started crying." Kenny repeated, scratching his blonde mop. "He didn't get hurt, right…?"

"I really don't know why he was crying," I muttered thoughtfully, licking my lips absentmindedly. Missing that indistinct taste of cola on my lips. "Maybe it was out of guilt. Or fear… or maybe the fact that he threw up all over the place…"

Kenny shook his head. "Nah, couldn't be the last one. Stan's been puking during school for nearly ten years now…he's well used to it…"

"By the way, Kenny." I said quietly, glancing at him.

"Yeh?"

"You owe us four bucks for making us look at the fucking male model magazine."


	9. Guilt

Auri's Notes: I do not own Red Spice shampoo. X.x Also don't own H.I.M., but I LOVE their music. XD

This chapter is chalk-full of UBERSTANXKYLEADORABLEFLUFFINESS. x3

Okay, gonna do a thing here that I've never done before... COMMENT REPLIES. xD

**Zakuyoe: **No problem for the compliment, it was my pleasure because I LOVE YOUR STORYYYY. It's enticing. XD

**Lilchicky004: **-shifty eyes- What's this? Something about them falling for each other? Hmm...

**Bloody Auzzie Bogan Mate: **Thanks! Yeh, I wasn't sure if I could do Clyde or not, because he was the only person that seemed to fit there. I mean, I'd already mentioned Craig and Tweek and Butters, and Kevin or Token didn't really go well there... so I guess Clyde was the only real person left. xX

**SomeRandomBroflovskiFan: **Yes, hooray for chapter 8...finally... -nervous laugh-

**Venus-gurl: **-waves a foam finger with 'STAN IS NUMBAH 1' scrawled on it- YES, GO STAN!!

**Raven0526: **Except more of that in later chapters. It won't be just Clyde who gets beat up! -evil cackle-

**CjM1UvR-01: **I thought the male model magazine would be kind of cute. :3 Good to see someone thought it was.

**Mizuki Perry: **Thanks bunches! xD Yes, this one took a while to update, sorry... xx

**Iloveinuyasha44: **Three letters speak for itself! xD

**-Chocolate Thunder-: **Frightening? Really? Wow! xD

-------------------------

Stan had not been in school for the rest of the day. I heard that he was in the nurse's office. Clyde was in there as well, but there was a rumor circulating that he had been moved from the school to Hell's Pass Hospital, which I knew was fucking bullshit because I saw him later that day in the bathroom with a white eye patch over his eye. He hadn't said anything to me, except to smirk knowingly at me from two urinals down.

The entire school knew by the end of 6th period. Things circulated quickly in a small school like this one. That was a bad thing, however, because several people stopped me in the hallway and asked about Stan. I was dreading the next day, when everybody in the whole school would be asking about it. _Everybody thinks I'm a queer…_

Stan did show up to ride the bus home. We sat in silence, Stan's defeated and limp body leaning up against mine for comfort. I had my arm around him. Cartman sat kiddie-corner to us, glancing at us every now and then. Kenny was across from us, flipping through a 'Slut Monthly' magazine and sighing every once in a while.

I busied myself by looking out the window and playing with a strand of Stan's hair. He didn't seem to mind. Kenny had promised four dollars to us for the magazine, as well an additional four since I was fidgeting with Stan's hair. It smelled like Red Spice shampoo, which I enjoyed immensely because that smell drove me freakin' crazy.

Stan hadn't said anything to me since he got out of the nurse's office. I had waited for him outside the door anxiously until Stan joined me. Since Cartman and Kenny were waiting with me, I had thrown my arms around his neck and kissed him abruptly on the cheek. He simply returned the kiss and we walked down to the busses together without a sound.

Stan's first noise in an hour was the name I very much so hated. "Cartman," He mumbled.

Cartman glanced around, "What the hell you want, Stan?" He asked.

"How much money have we lost?"

I felt a pang of sadness. Stan was caring about the money still? I tightened my grip on him and said nothing.

"Except for that twentah dollars that you guys have yet to earn back, nothing." Cartman yawned.

"I thought we earned that back with me biting Stan!" I said sharply, glancing at Cartman.

"No, you'd already lost a previous twenty. Remember, you lost twenty when you wouldn't grab each other's asses, and then you lost another twenty for being so fucking _stiff,_ but you earned _that _twenty back when you bit Stan." Cartman explained gently. "By the way, how many people did you guys tell?"

"Not many." I groaned. "I told Butters, Stan told Clyde, and Mrs. Pushman found out by accident. Also, the entire art class found out, too…"

Cartman was silent. I could almost hear his brain working. "Well, since an entire class found out, I guess that one will count… no money lost today, boys… oh, wait, Kenny, how many times did they call each other pet names todah?"

"I counted," Kenny said with a bob of his head. "They're clean." He went back to his magazine, skimming through it as though it was a mildly interesting article about world events. I frowned, slightly confused. That wasn't true. We had not met today's limit… but I didn't correct Kenny, guessing that he did it for our benefits.

"Good," Cartman said. "You guys did well for your first day. Kudos."

"Stan," I said quietly. "Can I crash with you again tonight? I'm sure the 'rents won't mind."

Stan shrugged beneath me. I adjusted my clutch on him slightly to make him more comfortable. "Sounds good to me. Just call your parents or something so you don't get in trouble."

"Yeh, I planned to." I smirked. "It'd be easy if I could just say until your parents got back."

"Well," Stan glanced at me, "Ask if you can…"

-------

"Hey, Mom…" I said, leaning against the back of Stan's couch with my cell phone pressed up against my ear. "I'm gonna stay at Stan's tonight. That okay?"

"Sure thing, _bubbe_, just make sure you get clean clothes." Came my mother's voice.

"Thanks. Hey, you know Stan's parent's are gone, right?"

"Yes, I actually got a call from them earlier! Sharon and Randy say that they're having a great time."

"That's good," I said, feeling tense for some reason. "Hey do you think I could just stay with Stan for a few days, at least until his parents get back…?"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Kyle," Mom said carefully. "I mean, the kind of mischief you boy could get into!"

"Oh, come on, Mom," I laughed. "What are Stan and I gonna do, drugs?"

"Let's hope not."

"Mom!"

"Oh, fine, fine, fine!" Mom said in exasperation. "Come over later and enough clothes! Then again, you probably have so many clothes over there already that you wouldn't need to…" She chuckled.

I laughed. "Right. See you in a couple minutes, Mom."

"Bye, _bubbe._" She hung up. I did as well and flipped my RAZR shut.

"I can stay, but I have to go back to my house and get clothes and stuff." I said glumly, standing up and turning around to face Stan, Kenny, and Cartman. "You wanna give me a ride, Stan?"

"Sure," Stan said, grinning weakly. "C'mon, you guys," He motioned towards Cartman and Kenny. "Might as well not stay here."

"Let's just freakin' go and get this over with." Cartman complained. "Jesus Christ…"

The four of us piled into Stan's decrepit silver Isuzu. I sat up front with Stan, while Cartman and Kenny got into the back. Stan started the car, flipped on the radio, and pulled out of the drive. I hummed along with the music (H.I.M.) and watched the windshield wipers go back and forth repeatedly.

"How many days you gonna stay, Kyle?" Stan asked, glancing at me. "'till my Mom and Dad get back?"

"Yeah, probably." I answered with a shrug. I looked out the window, watching the snow fly by. "They're coming back next Wednesday, right?"

"Yes." Stan said with a yawn.

"Hey, did you guys get that homework for Mrs. Mudvayne?" Kenny piped up. "What were the page numbers?"

"98 and 99," I answered with a small yawn. "And if I'm wrong, don't kill me."

"Oh, don't worry, I will." Kenny gave a small shrug and leaned against the window.

The rest of the short drive passed in silence. Stan pulled into my driveway with ease. He shut off the ignition, and, with difficulty, opened his door.

"You seriously need a new car, dude," I noted, stepping out of the car and nearly slipping on my ice-caked driveway. "Damn!" I clung to the open door, barely managing to keep my balance.

Stan laughed weakly and shook his head. "Okay, Kyle, you tell me where I can get 12,000 dollars."

Mom was in the kitchen. "Hello, boys," She said, without looking at us. She was busy stirring a pot on the stove. "How was today?"

"Fine." Stan answered dully, his voice shaking slightly. "Thanks for letting Kyle stay, Sheila."

"No problem, Stan," She said. I peered over her shoulder to look at the pot, then recoiled back. It didn't look appetizing. Instead of venturing to ask what the khaki-colored muck within the pot was, I simply gave Mom a hug and backed out of the kitchen, trying not to gag.

"C'mon, Kyle, let's hurrah!" Cartman snapped when we were halfway up the stairs. I flipped him off without turning around. I heard him mutter something about a 'stupid-ass Jew', but took no notice.

"Hey, Kyle!" Ike stuck his head out of his doorway, and grinned lopsidedly at me. "Oh, hey guys!" He noticed the other three people behind me, and waved sheepishly. "Are you coming home tonight, Kyle?" He asked, turning back to me.

"Uh, no, I'm staying with Stan until his parents get back." I opened the door to my room. "Sorry." I added in atone to his disappointed look. He shrugged.

"Ah, that's fine. See you later." He shut his door rather quickly and disappeared from view.

Stan leapt onto my bed the minute he entered the room. I filtered through my closet, in search of a bag to put my clothes in. Kenny and Cartman both lingered by the door, looking restless.

I shoved a few shirts into the bag that I'd found, keeping one eye on Stan. He had my pillow pressed over his face, laying there limp like a rag doll. "Don't suffocate yourself, dude." I said listlessly, searching in my top drawer for a clean boxers.

"I should," Stan groaned. "I should suffocate myself. I don't believe that happened!" The last three words built up into a crescendo, and Stan's fingers dug tight into the pillow.

"Stan," I said sharply, shutting my top drawer and kneeling down to look through the very bottom one. "Stop being so fucking hard on yourself. Clyde _deserved _it."

"But… I just lost control, Kyle!" Stan said, his voice quaking. "I just… I just couldn't control-" His broken voice died away as soon as I looked at him. I couldn't see his face underneath the pillow, but I knew that his blue eyes would be lost and scared. It was a rather strange change from the rough-and-tumble Stan that I usually knew. It was reminding me strongly of the day at the drug store. This time was different, though- Stan wasn't just scared, as he had been in the store. This was different. He was terrified, and probably feeling guilty as all hell.

"Stan…" I dropped my bag on the floor, and crouched down to kneel before him. I tugged the pillow out from overtop of his face and stared at him. His face was flushed, and the sapphire eyes that were normally sparkling with confidence were glassy and glazed with a new emotion. "Stop." I said, folding my arms on the edge of the bed.

"Ky-"

"STAN." I said firmly. "Do _not _blame yourself. Nothing that happened today was your fault. Clyde did a cruel thing by making fun of us. He put it upon himself. It was _his _fault, Stan. His fault…" Our eyes met briefly. Stan's eyes were filling with tears. Before I knew what was happening, Stan had thrown his arms around my neck in a desperate hug, and began to sob into my shoulder. I put an awkward arm around his shoulders and pressed my head against his own.

"WILL YOU TWO QUIT STALLIN' AND GET MOVING ALREADY?!" Cartman's voice broke in angrily. Stan and I looked up in unison. He was glaring at us, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently. "Let's hurry up, okay you gahs? I don't want to be heeyah any longer than we need to be."

I opened my mouth to snarl back at Cartman, but felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Stan had sat up slightly, propped up on one elbow. He shook his head as I made eye contact with him. "Don't worry about it," He mumbled. "Just get your stuff."

I stood up uneasily, and backed away from him. Stuffing more clothes into the bag, I took another look at Stan. He had pressed the pillow back over his face and was laying on his back again.

"Kyyyyle, hurreh!" Cartman whined, clenching his fists in frustration. "We don't have all night!"

I whirled around to face him, but Kenny beat me to it. "Cartman," He snapped. "Be a good person for once in your pathetic life and shut the _fuck _up."

Cartman stared at Kenny for a long time, his fat hands clenched into fists of rage. He opened his mouth to yell at retort at Kenny, but the blonde boy's unnerving stare made him shut his trap.

With difficulty, I zipped shut the bag shut and stood up. "Let's go." I said quietly, heaving it over my shoulder. "Stan…" I edged nearer to him and took hold of his arm. It was firm and resisting, but after a couple seconds of tugging, I was able to pull Stan from his spot on the bed. "Get up, man."

Stan stood shakily, and wiped his eyes with the back of his arm. "God…Sorry, Kyle," He said quietly. "I didn't mean to break down on you like that." I draped my arm over his shoulders in a hug.

"Stan, shut the hell up." I said quietly, then released him. He staggered backwards for a moment, looking nonplussed, but then resolutely followed Cartman, Kenny, and I out of the room.

----------

I leaned against the window of Stan's car, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Stan's driving seemed exceptionally bad at the moment, but then again, I couldn't blame him. We were halfway down the road toward Stan's house. I was desperate for sleep. For escape. I closed my eyes tight, the car silent except for music seeping dimly through the radio speakers.

"You know," Stan said finally, as he tapped on the breaks to pull into his driveway. "I think maybe this is the kind of thing that won't resolve itself. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, like in sitcoms how there's always a resolution that comes in from nowhere," I heard Kenny say from the back seat.

"This is exactly what's NOT going to happen. You guys realize that Kyle and I might just be scarred for life because of this?" Stan said dully. I heard a familiar jingling sound as he jerked the keys out of the car. "Let's go… Kyle?"

I didn't want to get up. I felt him touch my shoulder slightly. "Kyle," He antagonized, shaking me gently. "Get up, dude…"

I opened one eye. "We at your house?" I asked the obvious question.

"Yes," Stan said. His face was about a foot from mine. I could still see red patches on his face where the tears had flowed down so steadily. His eyes were bloodshot, contrasting with their usual pale blue. "Come on, get up."

I heaved myself upright. "Stan, do you mind if I crash on your couch? I'm really tired all of a sudden," I muttered, kicking open the car door. Kenny and Cartman had already begun to trek up towards Stan's house.

Stan nodded. "Yeah, sure, dude." He said, as I hauled my bag up over one shoulder and shut the door behind me. "I might take a nap, too…" He glanced at Kenny and Cartman. "Hey, when are you guys gonna get the hell out of here?"

Kenny glanced at Stan, then me, then Cartman. He leaned in to say something to Cartman that I couldn't hear, and then turned back towards Stan. "We have to talk to you guys about today. If you guys want, we can come back later."

Stan turned to me, his head inclined. I nodded. "Yeah," Stan looked back at Kenny. "Come back at around maybe 6 o'clock. Okay?"

Kenny nodded. "Gotcha. Bye you guys," He said, and he and Cartman began to walk down the street towards Cartman's house. Cartman was growling something that I couldn't understand, but I think I caught the words "Goddamn stupid ass hippie faggots".

As soon as we got into the house, I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and flopped down onto the couch. Warm and green, forever comfortable and perfect for lounging. Stan sat down next to me and leaned onto his side of the couch, laying his head on the arm rest. "TV on or off?" He asked.

"Off," I said quietly. "But if you want it on, that's okay."

"No… it's…fine off…" Stan said uncertainly. I lay on my back, looking up at the ceiling with my legs stretched out. Since the couch was not quite big enough to accommodate both Stan and I comfortably, my feet were positioned behind him, and his in front. Having longer legs, Stan's feet came to just above my beltline. I felt a sudden, bizarre urge to touch one of them, but I didn't. I heard Stan yawn and felt his body twitch slightly as he did.

"How are we gonna be up by 6?" I mumbled, my eyes closed. "You think Cartman's gonna just come over here and barge through the door?"

Stan moved slightly. "He'll probably call," He said thickly. "I doubt Kenny would let him just come in."

I didn't say anything for a while. Then, finally, "You sure about that?" Stan didn't answer. Not knowing whether or not he was feigning sleep, I yawned and allowed sleep to overtake me.

I woke up to the sun on my face. I was very warm. Blinking open bleary eyes, I lifted my head to look around. Where was I…? My roving gaze landed on Stan, and I jolted back to reality. Oh, that's right. Stan was curled up, catlike, his mouth open slightly and his hands curled around his chest, hugging himself. I sat up fully, and stared at him. Stan sure slept in weird positions. I looked down at myself. I could see red marks on my hands from where the tiny embroidering on the couch had pressed into my skin. I examined these red marks for a minute before looking up at Stan again. He looked peaceful. I felt a grin slip over my face as I heard him snore slightly. _He reminds me of Cartman snoring. _I thought to myself, a still grinning. But then I instantly erased the thought. Stan was a much more… hm… _How DO you describe how someone sleeps? Cartman is a blob of lolling fat, while Stan's… more… natural? Normal? Adora- _

I closed my eyes tight, shooing the thought from my mind.

The clock on the wall read 5:49. Cartman and Kenny would be here in just about ten minutes. I sighed and heaved myself from the warmth of the couch cushions. Scratching behind my head, I began to make my way towards the kitchen, but something stopped me. I turned around to look back at Stan. He was still there, doubled up into a ball and snoring lightly. I smiled again, and kept walking.

_Adorable. _


	10. Stan's Story

Auri's Notes: The last chapter had a rather abrupt ending, forgive me.

XD HEY, EVERYBODY- if you're wondering WHY they're acting gay in their homestead, LOOK BACK AT CHAPTER ONE- there's a loophole.

**"And this is only during school and in public? Not in our houses or any other time we're alone?" Stan stammered, drumming his fingers nervously on the lunchroom table and shifting back and forth in his seat nervously. "And… no sex?" **

**"No, no sex." Kenny said, taking a sip of his coke. **

**"Not unless you want to." Cartman interjected, lifting up a hand with index finger extended. **

Stan asked if it was only in school or public. CARTMAN OR KENNY NEVER ANSWERED HIS QUESTION. Therefore, Stan never made sure they didn't have to act gay at home. -evil cackle-

Plus, it's been around five days since that happened…and people forget things…. -shifty eyes-

I don't own Pepto Bismol. Xx SHORTEST CHAPTER SO FAR. But, in happier news, I WROTE THREE CHAPTERS THIS WEEKEND!! xD I wrote chapters 9, 10, and 11 in THREE DAYS! WHOOT:3

But you peoples won't get them yet. -evil cackle- I'll update once or twice of this week if I can. :3 S

------------KENNY'S POINT OF VIEW--------

"Those goddamn stupid-ass hippie bastards!" Cartman was still grunting over two hours later, as we slogged through the snow towards Stan's house. "I'll _keeeeell_ those gahs!"

"Cartman, shut up! God, you've been ranting for nearly three hours! So what if they wanted some time alone?!" I whirled around to face the angry fat boy behind me. "Fuck, the best you can do is just let them be! It's YOUR fault, anyways!"

Cartman's face broke into one of incensed frustration. "MY fault? How the _fuck _is it _my_ fault, you stupid poor boy?"

I stopped. 'Poor boy.' I swiveled on the spot to face him, my fists clenched. "What the hell, Cartman, this _bet_ was _your _idea!"

Cartman was silent, having no comeback.

The rest of the walk was in silence…mostly. Cartman was still kicking out at snow banks and grumbling angry things to himself, but he didn't speak directly. I was lost in thought over today's events.

When we reached Stan's house, I knocked softly on the door. I didn't hear anything at first, but then the doorknob turned. Kyle stood there in the doorway, his hair tousled and his face sleepy and vague. He'd apparently just woken up.

"Stan's still sleeping," Was the first thing he said. "Be quiet and come in…" He backed away, and leaned over the couch to look at Stan. He reminded me strongly of a mother bending over their child's crib. Cartman sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch. I sat down on the floor, beside the coffee table, and waited.

"Hey," Kyle nudged Stan slightly, shaking him by the shoulder. "Heeey…" He breathed into Stan's ear. I eyed him curiously, and he flashed me a devious grin. "Get up, babe," He said quietly, leaning down so that he was an inch from Stan's ear. "C'mooonnn.." Stan didn't move, except to take a deep breath. Kyle grinned wider and suddenly lurched down and nipped at Stan's neck, just between his jaw and his adam's apple.

Stan suddenly jolted into wakefulness. He stared at Kyle, who had positioned himself so that he was straddling the back of the couch. "Dude, what the hell was that about?" Stan asked incredulously, as Cartman and I laughed.

"Just wanted to wake you up…"

-------------KYLE'S POINT OF VIEW--------

I honestly don't know why I did it. The opportunity was there, so I took it. Of course, it really meant nothing, but then again, maybe it would give us some extra credit points in the long run. Stan was watching me with a strange expression on his face, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Stan rubbed his neck where I'd nibbled him. "You scared me…" He muttered, and sat upright, shaking his head. "Man…"

"Don't hate me," I joked, "I just had to."

Stan grinned and nudged me sharply. I nearly fell off the couch, but managed to cling to it. "Did it hurt?" I asked him, touching the spot where I'd got him. He shrugged, and I felt his shoulder muscles shift under my finger.

"Not really," He said, "More unanticipated than anything else." He ducked underneath my hand and leaned back against the couch, turning his eyes towards Kenny and Cartman. "Well, what did you guys want?"

Kenny cleared his throat. "We… we want to know what happened today, Stan." He said quietly, shifting uncomfortably with an uneasy look on his face. "If you're willing to tell, anyway."

Stan frowned. Cartman was oddly silent, with a contemplative look on his face. "I… guess if you guys really want to know," Stan said softly. "But I thought Kyle told you what happened, Kenny…"

"I did," I chimed in, leaning forward so that I was stretched out on the back of the couch like a lion. I gazed down at the top of Stan's black head, and reached down to toy with a lock of his hair. So soft. Stan didn't seem to mind, in fact, he scooted up slightly so I had a better reach. "That feel good, Stan?" I teased.

Stan nodded. "Yeh," He said with a grin. "It actually does. It's relaxing."

"Stan," Cartman finally spoke up. "We really need to know what happened. After Kyle left you in the nurses office."

Stan looked uneasy. I reached down to squeeze his shoulder for comfort.

-----------------STAN'S POINT OF VIEW-------------- ((Author's Note: Hah, first SPOV in the whole story!! xD))

Feeling Kyle's hand on my shoulder made a strange warmth spread through me. It was a feeling of being watched, but not a bad kind of watching. It made me understand… Kyle cared. He was guarding me, fostering me. Like he actually… _loved me._

_Don't be a dumbass, _I told myself, clearing my throat slightly. _Kyle doesn't love you. He's only doing it because Cartman and Kenny are here. He's like my brother… only closer? _

"Well," I said, shifting uncomfortably, "It went like this…."

"As soon as I was in the nurse's office, I was pushed into a chair and left to sit there, curled up into the fetal position and still, uh, crying. Nurse Doebel was talking to Clyde like he was her child or something, being all soothing and gentle. She was putting an eye patch over his eye, and then wrapping his head in white gauzy stuff.

"Clyde didn't even notice me at first. He was simply sitting on a cot, clinging to it for dear life and making these weird sobbing sounds… except he wasn't crying. More like wheezing. I ain't surprised, though, it must've hurt like hell. I could only sit there and watch him. He finally saw me, after Nurse Doebel had backed away, and he gasped and moved backwards on the cot abruptly.

"'Stan!' He'd said in a strangulated voice. 'Get the hell away from me!'

"I didn't say anything. I knew better not to. So, I just covered my eyes with my hands and kept crying. I actually _couldn't_ say anything, really, and, overall, I still felt like I was gonna puke my guts out.

"I did, later, actually, after Nurse Doebel had given Clyde some antibiotics and let him to his own devices. I'd cried so much that I was empty, and felt worse than before. I started to gag and knew what was coming, so I slapped my hands over my mouth and tried to yell for something, but she didn't catch me in time so I threw up on the floor.

"Then Nurse Doebel started freaking out and shoving a garbage can in my face. She called a janitor to clean the puke up and then started looking around in her medicine cupboards. I threw up a few more times, dry heaved one or twice, then curled up in the chair and wailed a bit more before Nurse Doebel started drowning me in Pepto. She put me on another cot and told me to sleep, but I couldn't. I just started at the wall, not looking at Clyde who was laying on a cot behind me. I kept shuddering and crying with no tears coming out because I knew that Clyde was right there near me and he'd have it out for me as soon as possible. I… I was scared of him, guys.

"I think I fell asleep for a couple hours and then woke up, puked again, then fell back to sleep. I don't quite remember all the details. Principal Brooks came in sometime to talk to me but I really didn't say anything. I just made 'uh-huh' noises and nodded. I didn't look at her, just stared at the wall still. I learned that Clyde's parents had come to pick him up after I'd fallen asleep. He was pretty much okay, though, because Nurse Doebel said that he could function normally with one usable eye. They'd let him go to the bathroom and stuff…"

Kyle suddenly broke in. "I saw him in the bathroom, Stan!" He said eagerly, pausing his constant stroking of my hair to gesture flamboyantly. "He was in there the same time I was. Didn't say anything to me, just kind of grinned evilly." His voice began to shake. "I… think he's plotting something."

"I wouldn't doubt it," I agreed darkly. "Anyways, Clyde was gone, and Brooks was telling me that I wasn't going to be in a lot of trouble. Someone had apparently told her what had happened, and so she didn't blame me for it and understood that it was Clyde who should have been punished and not me… But she still says that I'll have a one-day out-of-school suspension for physical confrontation. So now the Principal and probably the entire school faculty knows that I'm supposedly gay.

"I tried to sleep more, but I couldn't, but I still felt sick, so Nurse Doebel said I didn't have to go to class. I _couldn't _go to class, anyway. I would have been bombarded with questions and accusations. Was afraid to go, to tell you the truth.

"I sat back and read a magazine. I started to feel better after relaxing slightly, but then you came to pick me up," I gestured at Kyle, "So then I went on the bus with you guys, and that's 'bout it…"

They greeted my story with silent awe. Kenny finally broke the hush with a question. "When do you have to serve your suspension?"

"Tomorrow," I groaned. "Sadly."

Kyle leaned down to rest his head against mine, and I shivered as a lock of his hair brushed against my ear. "I'll call in sick," He said with a shrug. "No problem. I could use another day to do Mudvayne's homework."

"If you want," I mumbled, smiling at him. _He's always there for me. He was even willing to take half the punishment for what happened, remember? But he's just being a friend. I mean, what kind of friend wouldn't do that for someone? _My gaze fell on Cartman. _Then again… _"You shouldn't be missing school, Kyle, and plus," I glanced at Cartman again. "Would that be violating the rules?"

Cartman looked pensive. "Maybe… I think we should maybe find out some way to tell if you guys would be acting gay at home. Maybe set up a video camera… I know you have one, right, Stan?"

It was located in the closet in the hall. "I think we could do that." I said with a nod. "Set it up in the living room. Change the tape every few hours." I glanced at Kyle. "How does that sound?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, sounds good." He seemed more excited about this than I could understand, but then again, it _was_ for the sake of the bet.

--------------KYLE'S POINT OF VIEW-----------

Oh, fucking hell. We were going to be watched? Greeaaat. I pretended to look happy about it, but honestly, I couldn't_ feel _happy about this. Frankly, it seemed to me that Cartman was going to staggering lengths to monitor us. With the exception of today's lunatic events, he appeared to want to press us for everything that ever went wrong. Greedy little bastard.

Scratch out the 'little'.

"What if the batteries on the camera run out?" I asked, frowning. "Wouldn't we have to keep the charger plugged in?"

Stan nodded. "Yup," He said, stretching tiredly and laying on his back again. "We'll move the coffee table to the wall and set it up there. That way it'll see all of the living room and the doorway of the kitchen."

"Also," Cartman said. "If you two need to go upstairs for and reason, take the camera with you. We have to be able to see EVERYTHING that you guys are doing."

I shrugged and drew a hand through my hair, thinking. I looked at the kitchen doorway, the door slightly ajar. One couldn't see much into the kitchen from here. "Oh, and we'll also be taking the door off." Cartman said in a businesslike tone of voice.

Stan stared at him. "No. Fucking. Way."

At the same time, I couldn't help gasping out, "_What?!_"

"Well, sorry, we can't take any chances when it comes to stuff like this," Cartman snapped. "We'll put it back on, don't worry!"

Stan still looked uncomfortable. I didn't blame him. "How…do you intend to get the door off?" He said carefully, frowning

"With a crowbar," Cartman said, but then as Stan's face broke into one of horror and shock, he laughed. "Oh my _God,_ Stan, can you _be_ that stupid? We're using a _screwdriver, _stupid! Duuuur!"

Stan sighed with relief. "Jesus Christ…" He muttered, shaking his eyes. "You guys are fuckin' _animals_!"

Cartman laughed. "Stan, your parents got a toolbox?"

Stan nodded. "I think so but I don't know where it is." He glanced around the room, and then shrugged. "Guess you're out of luck."

"You won't get rid of the consequences _that _easily, Stan!" Cartman stood up. "Kenny, we're going to your house. I know you've probably got tools and shit scattered on your lawn, so we can probably find a screwdriver there."

Kenny was silent, then: "You dickhole." He growled. "We don't have tools on our lawn. Just tires." He stood up and stretched. "But my dad's got a toolbox in the hall closet. Come on, let's go get it." Cartman stood up as well.

"Right. Stan, get your video camera. We've got some work to do…."

----------------------

It was around 10:45 p.m. Stan and I sat curled up on the couch and watching a copy of Asses of Fire, part VI. The video camera sat blinking quietly to itself on the coffee table, and the kitchen door leaned up against the wall near the kitchen. Stan was nearly asleep already, leaning up against the armrest of the couch with his hair tousled and his eyes half-closed.

I was more awake than him, but still felt the tug of sleep slowly claiming me. "Hey Stan?" I queried softly, watching as Terrance leapt from a 5-story building.

Stan glanced at me. "Yeah?" He asked.

"What do you think Clyde's planning?"

Stan was quiet for a few minutes. "I don't know," He said finally, frowning slightly. "Probably planning to kick my ass or something." He shrugged. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

"Oh." I said quietly. "Okay… just wanted to get your opinion."

"Shut up, Kyle… go to sleep…" Stan mumbled, grinning.


	11. Revelation

-1Auri's Notes: Last chapter was short, sorry, buuuut, that chappie was really more for information than actions. Xx

I LOVE this chapter so much. I just feel like shit because it took me TWO FUCKING MONTHS TO UPLOAD!! I AM SOOOO SORRY! Trust me, there will be most, promise. x3 Honestly, it's my favorite so far. I wrote this on November 5th, and it's taken me all this time to finally upload it! Wh00t:3

This is a fun, fluffy chapter. But Stan and Kyle's relationship will probably change drastically after chapter.. Eh.. I think… 12? Anyways, this is a fun chapter that really to be read more for pleasure than purpose. It was really for my benefit, because I like practicing writing random chapters and stuff, but, eh, I post 'em anyways. :3 Thanks for being patient.

I don't own Hamburger Helper.

------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, _bubbe_?"

"I… feel sick… could you call the school and tell them I'm not coming?"

"Aw, what's the matter, Kyle? Do you need me to come over?"

"No thanks," I said quickly. "I just have a stomachache. Don't worry about it, I'll just sleep it off."

"Well, okay. Hope you feel better, _bubbe._"

"Love you mom."

"Love you too, Kyle."

I clicked my phone shut. "Well, she'll call the school and tell 'em I'm not coming." I reported, glancing over my shoulder at Stan. He was reclining on the couch and flipping through the male model magazine.

"Good," Stan said, glancing at me. "This day shouldn't be completely boring as hell."

I chuckled and shook my head. "I'm hungry," I said, stuffing my phone into my pocket and stretching. "It's almost 8:00. We should probably eat something."

"Dude, you know where the kitchen is." Stan pointed with his left hand. "Riiight there."

"Awww," I grinned and leaned forward towards him, putting my hands on the couch. "Come with me. Pleaase?"

"Kyle, you're 15, you can get food yourself." He said strictly. "Who do you think I am, your daddy?"

"I could take that so far out of context that it's not even funny." I cracked, poking him in the ribs. He jerked away from me, and tried to hit me with the magazine. I ducked underneath it and pounced on the couch, laughing my head off. This was definitely more fun than school!

"C'mon, Kyle!" Stan groaned. "Leave me alone!" He yelled, waving the magazine at me again. "ACK!"

I sat down on his chest, snatching the magazine from his grip. I leaned down so that I was about two inches from his chest and hissed in his ear. "Extra credit, Stan."

His eyes suddenly gleamed with realization, and he grinned deviously. He nodded, then suddenly reached up and snatched me about the waist. I only managed to yell out, "HEY!" before we both tumbled from the couch. Stan landed on top of me, which hurt like a motherfucker. Worst part of all, he landed on my _back, _which I'm sure would look 'interesting' on the video camera. My face was pressed into the carpet, and I felt Stan roll over on top of me so that our backs were pressed to each other.

"GET OFF ME!" I yelled, my voice muffled. "I CAN'T BREATHE, DUDE!" Stan scooted further down my back. "I swear to God," I growled, "If you fart, I'll fuckin' kill you."

Stan laughed. "I bet you wouldn't." He sat up and straddled my back. "I OVERPOWER YOU!!" He crowed, pulling my hat from my head and resting his head on top of mine.

How kinky this felt! Definitely not your average Stan-like behavior. I didn't resist him anymore, and when he proceeded to bite my ear, I simply groaned and pounded a fist on the ground. Truth be told, I was enjoying myself. This DEFINITELY beat school by a long shot!

-------------STAN'S POINT OF VIEW-----------

I wondered how much extra credit money this gave us, while using Kyle as a couch and idly watching television. He kicked and yelled after a while when he realized that I wasn't going to release him anytime soon, but he didn't hurt me at all.

His yelling _did_ make it hard to watch TV. "STAAAAN, LET ME GOOOOOO!" He wailed, trying desperately to kick at me from behind and only managing to kick himself in the hip. "MOTHER FUCK!" He cried out. "STAN GODDAMMIT LET ME GO! I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!"

Oh fuck. I scrambled off of him on all fours and was instantly ambushed from behind. Kyle tackled me like a retarded squirrel monkey (with a retarded squirrel monkey shriek to accompany it) and pushed me flat to the ground. "MY TURN!!" He yelled triumphantly, waving his hands in the air.

"YOU SUCK!" I howled. So he'd been lying about having to use the bathroom. "YOU PRICK! LEMME GO!" The red-haired bastard only laughed in reply. So, I did the only thing I could and hoisted myself up onto all fours again. Kyle wasn't expecting this, which delighted me and surprised _him._

"JESUS!" He yelled, clinging to me like a monkey. "SIT DOWN!"

"NEVER!" I sung, scrambling towards the kitchen. Suddenly, a severe pain hit me from behind. Kyle was pulling on my hair.

"SIT, BOY!" He bellowed. "SIT! DOWN BOY!"

"OWWW, LET ME GO!" I moaned, "I'll sit down…" I eased myself to the ground, and Kyle stood up, stretching. I stood up as well, and looked fleetingly at Kyle. He was grinning widely.

"I win."

The day passed with a few kisses and me ending up giving Kyle a piggyback ride around the house, to which he shrieked out, "YAHOOO!" into my ear countless times.

We were tired and winded by around 1:00. We sat at the table, which was visible from the camera's position, and ate lunch. Kyle picked uneasily at his plate, narrowing his eyes at the food. "Stan, d'you mind telling me what the hell this is?" He asked, glancing at me.

"It's a slipshod mockery of Hamburger Helper." I answered, peering down at my own plate which was half-gone. "Just eat it, it's good." I put a forkful of the mush into my mouth and swallowed, to provoke emphasis.

"Eh…" Kyle frowned at the dish and prodded it around some more with his fork.

"Oh, come on, Kyle, don't insult my cooking." I grinned at him and kicked him under the table. He winced visibly and raised a miniscule bit of food to his mouth.

"I dunno… it doesn't look like the cow is completely dead yet…" He said, grimacing.

---------KYLE'S POINT OF VIEW------------

To be honest, it looked like a cat had swallowed hamburger meat and gravy, and then vomited them out onto my plate with a few other pieces of half-digested food mixed in. I wasn't going to tell Stan that, of course, but I _really_ didn't want to eat it.

"Just eat it, dude." Stan said, glowering at me. "It tastes fine."

I put my fork back down. "Nah, s'okay, I'll eat it later…" I gazed out the kitchen doorway and stared at the camera. It's red light blinked at me, so I flipped it off.

I was suddenly pinned on my back on the floor, with Stan straddling my chest and a fork in his hand. "EAT IT!" He yelled, a maniac grin on his face. "Just one bite!"

I clamped a hand over my mouth. "NEVER!" I yelled through my hand. "I WON'T! I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE!"

Stan pried my hand away from my mouth, laughing his head off, and held the fork to my lips. I gnashed my teeth together forcibly. He couldn't get past me now!

…unless, of course, he used _my_ abandoned fork to force my teeth open. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I yelled, gagging on the fork and then choking on the Hamburger Helper that Stan then shoved into my mouth.

It was only then that Stan loosened his grip on me and put the forks down. He still sat on me, but only until I'd swallowed the food…which, for some godforsaken reason, tasted pretty good. After I'd swallowed, he sat next to me, halfway in the doorway. I sat up, leaning against the other jamb of the doorway.

"I hate you." I hissed at him, panting and grinning at the same time. He too was panting with effort, a demented grin on his face and a thin lamination of sweat on his forehead.

"I love you." He taunted, bowing his head to compress his lips on mine. He did it so fast that he knocked me flat again.

"Why is it ME always on the ground?" I complained, snapping at him with my teeth. He leaned down closer to me and manipulated a strand of my hair. My face hurt from where his mouth had barreled into mine, but I chose to ignore it.

"I'm bigger than you." Stan said, grinning still.

"That's not fair," I protested, frowning and straining to lift my head. "You've got muscle." Stan held up one of my arms and flexed it.

"You're pretty well suited, Kyle," He nodded, tongue in his teeth. "You've got good arm muscles. Good for basketball." He released me, chuckling.

"Yeah, well, the season's over." I said desperately, sitting up with difficulty. I crossed my legs Indian-style and watched Stan as he tugged at his Broncos T-shirt. "The whole school year's almost over." I glanced at him. He was staring at the ground. "You looking forward to that?"

"…yes." He said finally, after a small shrug. "I mean… it's our senior year next year…" He trailed off, fidgeting. "All the teachers we've ever known wouldn't matter anymore."

"Yeah…" I cracked a grin. "Remember Mr. Garrison and Mr. Hat? And Mr. Twig and Mr. Slave?"

Stan laughed out loud. "Mr. Hat was cool," He said, nodding agreeably. "Mr. Twig sucked, though, and Mr. Slave creeped me out."

"Mr. Slave weirded everybody out…" I noted, reclining against the doorjamb again. We were both quiet for a while, then, grinning, I thrust my foot into Stan's face. "Rub my feet."

"What? No!" Stan pushed my foot away. "It smells funny."

"C'moooon!" I whined. "Rub my feeeeet." I stuck them in his face again. Stan suddenly stood up, grabbed my feet, and proceeded to drag me from the room. "AH! RUGBURN! OW! NO! LET GO OF ME!" My shirt pulled upwards so that my back was exposed to the rough green carpet in Stan's living room. "LEMME GO!" I yelled in vain. Stan didn't seem to have any proclivity to let me go anytime soon, so I proceeded to scream my head off.

"Seriously, stop!" I moaned after a few minutes, my entire back pretty much numb from the constant friction against my skin. "I can't feel my back!"

"Why should I let you go?" Stan inquired brightly, frowning slightly but still smiling.

"Because my back is killing me, now put me down!"

"Say you love me."

I was silent. That had been completely unexpected. Stan actually wanted me to say _that_? I gazed into his face. He looked dead serious, except for the small grin on his face. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words, even though I knew what to say. The words seemed to get lost in my voice box and couldn't find their way out.

I swallowed. "I…" …couldn't say any more without strangling myself. I stared at anything but Stan's knowing face. Stared at the TV, stared at the couch, the ceiling… anything. "…uh."

"Go on." Stan prompted, his eyes soft.

"I… love… you?" I managed to gag out, but the words came as a question and not as a statement as I'd meant them to.

Stan's eyes penetrated mine, and his smile was widening. "Say it like you mean it."

I couldn't. I _didn't_ mean it. I didn't _want _to mean it. But did Stan mean it? Did he want me to mean it? Could he _ever_ want me to mean it? Was this just because of the bet, or was it truly earnest? I honestly couldn't say if I wanted to be sincere or not. If Stan was only acting this way because of the bet, then, if I was too frank about it, Stan could possibly take me seriously by accident. But, if he _was_ being serious, and I came across as too artificial, he might be hurt. I would never want to hurt Stan, but did I want to embarrass myself like that?

I looked at him again. Those eyes. They were incredible. That implausible blue that flickered with life and energy. You could _read_ those eyes. They were comprehensible, like whatever he was feeling was projected through his eyes into your mind. Right now, they told me honesty. Truth. Loyalty.

"I love you, Stan."

He eased my feet to the floor, and leaned down to help me up. I stood gingerly, my skin raw and crimson from being chafed for such a long time. Stan looked at me for a while, silent, then embraced me in what I took was a true hug. I curled my arms around his shoulders, and rested my head on his right shoulder. This time, I was glad that he was sturdy.


	12. His Disappearing Act

Auri's Notes:

I'm like. Still alive. After a long time.

THIS CHAPTER TAKES PLACE THE DAY AFTER THIS ALL HAPPENED. IT IS WEDNESDAY DURING LUNCH.

I desperately needed a reason to communicate Clyde's disappearance to Stan and Kyle, so I put Clyde's made-up girlfriend in there 'cuz I couldn't use any of Clyde's friends for obvious reasons. Don't worry, she'll be gone and never heard from again soon.

-----------------------------

Since we'd missed Mrs. Pushman's detention yesterday, we were stuck in her classroom today. Stan and I shared a bag lunch and sat very far away from Mrs. Pushman's desk. A sophomore girl whose name I didn't know was also in lunch detention, apparently being punished for throwing a book across the room and hitting someone with it.

I kept glancing at Mrs. Pushman. She was grading papers and not paying much attention to us. Stan and I leaned together, hunched over our nearly diminished lunch and talked quietly.

"Have you seen Clyde at all today?" Stan questioned, his voice nearly a whisper. "I didn't… do you think he had problems with his eye?"

I shook my head. "Haven't seen him. Honestly, I couldn't tell you, but my best guess would be 'probably'." I took a bite of my granola bar and thought. I hadn't seen Clyde since two days previous. "Maybe he's plotting."

"Shut up, Kyle." He groaned, shaking his head. "I won't want to think of Clyde scheming." He rested his head on the desk and bit his lip nervously. "To be very frank, I _don't_ want to see anything of him today." He chuckled weakly and held out his hand, open-palm. I put the granola bar into his hand with a kind of reluctance. He took a nibble from the corner, and then handed it back to me.

"I don't blame you." I said quietly, tearing a chunk off the sticky mass of granola, peanut butter, and chocolate chips and popping it into my mouth. I chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes, a flake of granola wedging itself between my teeth. I winced and sucked at my teeth. "You think he's waiting for you?"

"Let's hope not. Clyde's not one to-"

"Clyde?" Came a voice from across the room. It was the bespectacled sophomore girl, who was looking up interestedly at us. She was of average height and an athletic build, wearing a thin black t-shirt with some lime-green scrawly writing on the front and also a pair of dark blue jeans. "Clyde Donovan?"

I frowned. "Yeah," I said quietly, edging closer to her. She moved a desk over so she was only one desk apart from us. "You know him?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm his girlfriend." She picked at her fingernail idly. "I'm surprised he doesn't talk about me."

"Wait…" Stan frowned. "Wait, wait, wait… I think I remember Clyde talking about a girl named Taylor. Taylor De..." He trailed off. "Something with a D anyways..." He glanced up at her, and cocked an eyebrow. She folded her arms and nodded.

"DeMartin. Yeh, we've been going out for about a month and a half now. He's mentioned me, I take it?"

I suddenly had a memory of Clyde talking about he and his girlfriend, Taylor, working on a project together for Chemistry. I nearly smacked myself thinking about it. "Yeah, a couple weeks ago!" I said eagerly with a nod.

Stan glanced at me with his eyes wide. "Uh…" Stan began, but Taylor cut him off.

"What's this about Clyde, anyways?" She said coolly, her arms folded. "You guys know what happened to him? You know who punched his eye in?"

"I didn't _punch his eye in, _I-" Stan stopped short, his face reddening. Taylor's eyes widened behind her glasses, and she raised her eyebrows.

"So it was _you_!" She gasped. "_You_ hit Clyde! My God!" She leaned in closer, putting her hands on the edge of her chair, and whispered so that Mrs. Pushman couldn't hear. "_You're the gay guy, right?_"

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. We're the 'faggots' of whom Clyde speaks."

Taylor whistled low. "Woooow. I don't blame you, really." She said quietly, scratching at her head. "Clyde kind of deserved that one. I hate it when he calls people names." She sighed.

This was a relief. So she _wasn't_ mad at Stan! This was definitely a good sign. "So…" I said carefully. "Do you know if Clyde's plotting a revenge lay or something?" I laughed half-heartedly with a smirk on my face. Maybe if I pretended that it didn't matter to me, she'd be more willing to give information.

Taylor rolled her eyes. "I haven't seen Clyde all day. I have him in 5th hour. He's got art after lunch, so-"

"_Shit_!" I hissed, then clapped a hand over my mouth. I had momentarily forgotten that Mrs. Pushman was in the room. Thankfully, she had coughed at just the right moment, so she seemed not to hear.

"Ohhhh," Taylor nodded comprehendingly. "That's right. You guys have art with him!"

Stan and I glanced at each other, the nodded uneasily. We'd forgotten about next hour. So there was no chance of us finding out if Clyde had a revenge lay for us without _him_ telling us personally. "So you have no idea if Clyde's even _here_ today or not?"

She shook her head. "Nope, sorry. No idea. I'd guess he's here, though. He was here yesterday when you guys weren't, so I don't know why he'd miss a day in the middle of the week like that..."

Stan grimaced, his face very red. I put a hand on him, uneasily, and glanced at Taylor. She was wearing a kind of twisted smirk on her face. "Tell you what," She said, "If I find anything out, I'll come and find you if I can."

I nodded eagerly. "God, yes, thank you!" Stan ran a hand through his hair and sighed, resting his forehead on his palm and looked intently at the desk, as though it was some amazing discovery.

The bell suddenly rang. Lunch was over. Taylor didn't say anything else, except to scoop up her things and hurry out of the room before the bell was even done ringing. I nudged Stan in the ribs and stood up. Stan stretched and crumpled up the brown paper bag. I pulled it from his grip and threw it towards the garbage. It landed inside, dead center. "Damn you and your basketball talents." Stan growled, pulling me out the door by my arm.

----------------------------------

Uneasily, I stuck my head into the door of the art room. I looked around at the crowded room, dreading to see the boy with brown hair. After a quick sweep of the room, I nodded and ushered Stan inside. Many people stared at us as we wound our way through to the back of the room towards the pottery closet. "Someone probably put our pot in here." Stan said, his voice shaky. He glanced over his shoulder, and then pushed me into the closet.

"Hurrryyyyy," He moaned, his hand on my shoulder uneasily. "C'mon, let's see how long we can stay in here before we're forced to come out."

"Calm down..." I said quietly, glancing at him. I rifled through the pots on the shelves, searching for ours. I heard the teacher's voice ring out as she began to take role call. "Fuck." I mumbled. "Oh fuck. She's taking attendance. Fuck." Stan tensed up, his grip on my shoulder like a vice.

"And... Kyle?" I heard Mrs. Klein say. I bit down abruptly on my lip, and yelped. She didn't seem to hear, likewise, she proceeded to say, "Kyle? Is Kyle here?"

"I'm here!" I said weakly, sticking my head out of the closet door uneasily and spanning the room quickly. I didn't see Clyde.

"Okay, thank you Mr. Broflovski." Mrs. Klein said cheerfully, making a note on her clipboard. I ducked back into the closet and turned to face Stan. He stared at me, his face ashen.

"Did you see Clyde?" He asked, his voice guttural and shaky. "Was he out there?"

I shook my head, and Stan sighed tremendously. "Oh thank god. I was about to freak…" He trailed off, breathing hard. "Damn… so you didn't see him?"

"No," I said quietly. "But I was only out there for a quick glance. Either way, if he IS here, he knows that I'm he-"

Stan held up a hand suddenly and I stopped abruptly. "Sh," He hissed. "She's at the D's." We were both silent, listening hard.

"Clyde?"

There was a silence. I felt what seemed to be my skeleton melting inside of me.

"Hm… no Clyde today…" Mrs. Klein said, in what appeared to be a contemplative voice. "Oh well…"

I looked at Stan, disbelieving. "We are SO fucking lucky." He whispered, his face pallid. "You have no idea…"

I nodded slowly and went back to looking through the pots. "Yeah." I murmured. "Lucky."

----------------------------------

School, for the most part, went pretty okay… until the very end. There wasn't a lot else to worry about, now that we knew Clyde wasn't present, but it we passed Taylor in the hallway once or twice and she gave us a few strange looks that we couldn't explain. After the bell droned out for the end of 7th period, Stan dragged me out of Advanced Technology with my fingers throbbing. We'd been made to do typing exercises over and over again. Normally I'm very good with a computer, but in this case, it was torture.

"Dude… I can FEEL myself getting carpal tunnel." I mused out loud, examining the fingers on my right hand with mild interest. "Can't you?" I glanced up at Stan to see his jaw set and his eyes wide, staring at something down the hallway. "Stan?"

"Kyle," Stan turned around to face me hurriedly, his hair swinging in front of his face as his he did. His expression nearly made me cry out in shock. I'd never seen him look so scared before. "Kyle, we need to go this way." He took my by my arm and herded me down the hall, the opposite way. "Now."

"Stan, dude, what the hell?" I said, looking over my shoulder at the hallway. "What are you…" Then I realized what he was talking about. One of the few faces I'd dreaded seeing all day was staring at us from the very end of the hallway. Craig, accompanied with Token, were staring at us and talking quietly close together. I watched as Token craned his neck to look over Craig's shoulder to get a better view. "Fucking hell." I whispered, my voice as dry as my mouth. "They know. They've got to."

"No shit," Stan said, his voice trembling. "Just go, don't bother looking at them… pretend we don't notice," He muttered, swallowing hard.

"Kinda hard not to," I said, shoving my way past some freshmen who gave me nasty looks and a few even cried out in anger. I ignored them. "I think they realize we've seen them."

Stan paused to open the huge double doors that led out into the cafeteria. The front doors lay across the cafeteria, beyond the rows of tables that the janitor was just now stacking up to be stored for the night. He stuck his head out into the cafeteria, looked around for a minute, before waving me forward. "It's okay, we're-"

His voice was drowned out by my sudden yelp. I'd felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, and was spun around to stare into the face of Craig. "Hey Kyle," He said, his nasally voice sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing." I said rather quickly. "Going home." I tensed as Craig tightened his grip on my shoulder to an almost painful extreme. "Um… how's about letting me go?"

"Nah, I don't think-"

"Craig!" Stan snapped. "What the fuck do you want? Leave Kyle alone, let him go!" He stood beside me, glaring nastily. I watched his eyes turn to the left as Token approached, his hands in his pockets. "Oh. Hi Token."

"Hey, guys." Token was grinning waspishly. "We noticed you guys staring at us a few minutes ago… you looked kinda scared. Anything you guys want to say to us?"

"What the hell… Token, _you_ were staring at _us_!" Stan growled.

"I dunno," Craig said. "If it wasn't for the fact that you guys are already the token fag couple around here, I'd say you guys looked like you were checkin' us out. That's sick, fag-boy, and you'd better realize that we don't want anything to do with your ass-pounding little fag group, 'kay?"

My jaw dropped. How _dare_ he? "What the fuck are you talking about? We were NOT checking you out!"

"Sure you weren't, Kyle." Craig sneered nastily. "Sure you weren't."

It had just occurred to me that Stan's hands were clenched into fists. He looked as if he'd strangle anybody who walked by at the moment. I could see red marks where his fingernails were digging into his palms, and I winced at the thought of how that felt.

"'sammater, Stan?" Token was about four inches from Stan. "You gonna do to me like you did to Clyde? You're going to definitely pay for that…" He poked Stan in the shoulder. "Clyde was right. You guys are waayyy oversensitive about this whole thing."

"Yea," Craig hissed. "We should just forget this whole thing. So why don't you guys just go be your gay little selves. Go suck face like you did in those pictures."

He saw the look of horror on my face, and I felt ice trickle down my spine. Pictures?! Since when were there EVER any pictures that existed of this ordeal? Then, it hit me.

Cartman.

I felt a sudden wave of dizziness that nearly made my knees buckle. Sweat was beading on my forehead, as cold fear flowed like ice in my veins. Oh no. Oh no. He didn't. There was no way he could have. How… how could've he? He had no camera… or had he?

"W-what?" Stan babbled, "What pictures are you talking about?" He had taken an abrupt step backwards, away from Token, who had his arms folded for added effect and an ugly smirk on his face.

"Don't lie," Token said, his voice one of utmost seriousness. "Craig, show him." Craig bobbed his head in a nod and finally let go of me. I stepped away from Craig, towards Stan, and watched as Craig rifled in his backpack for something. Finally, he pulled a small Ziploc bag out of his backpack and handed them to Token. Token opened the bag and extracted three color photos, and shoved them in Stan's face. "See?"

Stan snatched one of the photos from Token, and held it to his face. I craned my neck to look, and then recoiled in cold horror. The photo was a close-up of Stan and I, on the couch. We were quite clearly kissing. Kneeling on the couch on all fours, our faces leaned in towards each other with lips pressed together. "Where did you get these?" I spoke up, my mouth dry and my voice coming out as a wheeze.

"Our sources," Craig tore the photo out of Stan's hand and put it back in the Ziploc with a sneer.

"How many people have seen these?" Stan spluttered, "Do you know?" He looked as if he'd rather like to have the photo back, but Craig was already putting the Ziploc back into his bag.

"Nope," Token shrugged. "Fair few people."

Stan looked as if he was about to collapse, so I stood slightly behind him to catch him if he chose to faint at this _very_ appropriate moment. "So… so what do you want from us?"

"Dammit, fag-tard, we've TOLD YOU already!" Craig barked. "Clyde! He didn't deserve what you did to him, so now you're going to fucking pay!" He stood directly in front of Stan now. He was about four inches shorter than Stan, but he was more built in the muscular persuasion.

"Fine," Stan said calmly, his voice gone of all traces of fear. "I deserve it. I know I overreacted." He took a step away from me to give them a clear shot.

Craig narrowed his eyes at Stan, and clenched his fists so hard that I heard a knuckle crack. Curiously I made a point of looking over my shoulder to see if there was a teacher or any students around. There weren't… the students had apparently all left and the teachers were all probably in their rooms doing pot or something. Silently I cursed our luck and turned back around to face the soon-to-be fight and was met with Craig's fist in my stomach.

Pain. Pain like I had never felt before coursed through me. For a minute I couldn't move and I felt hot agony spreading through every vein and artery in my body… I couldn't breathe. Red haze filled my vision. Dimly from above me I heard fists landing and yelling as Stan literally leapt on Craig. My legs suddenly no longer felt the need to keep me supported and buckled beneath me. My knees hit the floor and sent another jerk of pain shooting through my body.

I curled my arms around my stomach and heaved for breath, feeling the walls around me crumble. I needed a wall to lean on or something or else I was going to pitch forward and fall down. I'd _never_ in my life been hit that hard. I could make out through the red haze Stan putting Craig in a headlock and Token was standing over me, a grin splitting his face.

"You okay, Kyle?" He asked, kneeling down so that he was eye level with me. He poked my shoulder (hard) and leaned in to me. "Your boyfriend's standing up for you. Shame he's too busy to protect you now." His fist tapped against the same shoulder that he'd just poked. I was too out of it to care at the moment but was aware of the hatred I could feel radiating from my own skin.

"Stan…" I managed to gasp out, my voice barely a whisper.

"I don't think he can hear you." Token said. He looked over his shoulder to see Craig putting an elbow in Stan's back. I winced, and tried to call his name but my voice was constricted in my throat. God, it was so hard to breathe. "C'mon, Kyle, stand up for yourself. Or is it true that gay guys can't fight?"

I couldn't move, still. Even as Token shoved my slumped form against the wall behind me, I was totally limp. Even as pain split my head in half as it hit the wall, stars dancing before my eyes, I couldn't move. Even as Token stood, towering above me, his foot raised for a kick, I couldn't move.

Even as the excruciating sting of his shoe in my side buckled me over for the second time, I wasn't able to do anything to defend myself. I heard my name being called from what seemed like ages and ages away, it was Stan's voice. My breath had totally left me, as did my voice.

No.

No, no, no, _fucking no. _I wasn't going to let Token take me like this, and I sure as fuck wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that I was weak. I sat up, and put a hand against the wall, feeling something wet and slick on the cold tiles. I tried to rise to my feet, but I buckled beneath the weight of my own pain and slumped to the ground.

"Nope, I was right." Token's face swam before my vision, doubled, tripled, and then whole, breaking apart and then rearranging and fitting back together and then reversing… "Gay guys CAN'T fight." He disappeared from my range of sight, and then I fell prey to unconsciousness.


End file.
